REAL LETTERS 

OF A 

REAL GIRL 





Glass __ 
Book_^ 



A 






Copyright U?_ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



REAL LETTERS 

OF A 

REAL GIRL 



By BETTY 



2 tu b 



The C. M. Clark Publishing Company 

Boston, Massachusetts 
1909 






Copyright, I 909 



THE C, M. CLARK PUBLISHING CO, 

BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS 
U. S. A. 

All Rights Reserved 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Cooies Received 

L Copyriifnt intry 









Lovingly dedicated to Bessie, the unfortunate 
victim of the following inky spasms 



REAL LETTERS OF A 
REAL GIRL 

United States Transport , 



Bound for the Philippines. 

December 23. 
Dearest Cousin: 

Where shall I begin ? I can't write 
fast enough, I have so much to say ! 

First of all, twenty times a day, I hug 
you mentally for all you did in helping 
us to pack, — and certainly there was plenty 
to do for poor Mother, starting on a trip 
around the world at thirty-six hours' 
notice. You were a perfect dear, as you 
always are, and I hope that sometime 
I may be able to do something for you. 
Wasn't it fine that at the last minute 
Mother could go with us ? Our trip 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

would simply have been spoiled if we had 
had to leave her at home. 

I feel as if I were terribly conceited 
to start a tale all about me and mine, 
but you asked for it, so if you don't like 
it, just take lots of love for Aunt Fanny 
and the other dear people and a big hug 
for yourself, and use the rest of this to 
kindle the fire. 

In the first place, the trip from Boston 
to New York was great fun and I shall 
never dread travelling alone in our country 
again. Everything is comfortable and con- 
venient, and I was all but tucked into 
bed. I was so sleepy that I was off as 
soon as my head touched the pillow and 
I slept like a top. I went to the Murray 
Hill Hotel for breakfast and then to the 
Transport with my trunks, and oh! 
Bess — I wish you could have been with 
me! I arrived just in time for guard 
mount. The band was playing inspiring 
music, the boat was trimmed with flags, 
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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

and the men in their gorgeous cavalry 
yellow made a perfect picture. It was 
simply soul-filling. 

The troops from our Post were not to 
arrive until noon, and I went up the gang- 
plank thinking that there would be no 
one on board whom I knew, but when I 
reached the deck, I discovered Captain 
H— — standing a little way off. We saw 
each other at the same minute and he 
made a wild rush towards me, caught 
his foot in a steamer chair, and fell flat 
on his face. It looked as if he were 
practicing an Eastern salaam, but what 
he said didn't sound even remotely like 
"Oh, Allah!" 

He found my state-room for me and 
helped me to stow away my baggage. 
The room was No. 15. (I am going into 
the minutest details for I intend to see 
you married to an army officer as soon 
as I find one good enough, and then you 
may take this very same trip.) It contained 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

two diminutive bunks and a little bob- 
tailed couch, intended for Bobby, and 
there were all manner of arrangements 
for keeping cool — electric fans, screen- 
doors, etc., — and a wash-bowl, which 
most obligingly clung to the side of the 
wall when not in use, and life-preservers 
enough to float an army of martyrs. 
There is but one word that seems to 
describe the room, and that word is — 
"cute." 

I hunted up Mother's room and found 
that it was No. i — a large room with four 
bunks and a big couch. 

Then I went up town to do my last 
errands, and as I know nothing about the 
city, I went to the " Grand," where I 
knew I could find some ladies from our 
Squadron, and we did all our shopping 
together. We had all been given lists 
of things that are absolutely necessary 
in the tropics. White canvas shoes seemed 
to be most important, and all agreed that 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

they must be about a size too large, as 
one's feet are very apt to swell in that 
climate. 

Then I went off by myself on a hunt 
for a book on astronomy. I felt that 
as Bobby would be losing his regular 
school, I must make this trip as instructive 
as possible, and as we should have a fine 
chance to study the stars, and an oppor- 
tunity to see the Ship and the Southern 
Cross, I walked miles trying to find an 
illustrated book which seemed simple. 
I went back to the Transport again just 
in time to see the first and third Squadrons 
come aboard. It was like a grand recep- 
tion or reunion, for it is a long time since 
our whole regiment has been together. 
It was, "Well, how are you, old man!" 
"Hello, where's Kittie ?" "Now, doesn't 
this seem good!" It did seem good to 
see Frank, and what do you think ? He 
said it was 30 degrees below zero when 
they left the Post. Mother, with Bobby in 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

tow, arrived at the Transport soon after, 
and every one was glad to see her. 

We found that our particular crowd 
had telegraphed for seats at Weber and 
Field's in the evening. Mother said she 
was really too tired to go, and would 
look after Bobby. About six o'clock Frank 
and I went up town and had the nicest 
little dinner together at Muchinheimer's, 
with champagne and no end of good 
things. We met the rest of the crowd 
and drove in a procession of hansoms 
to the theatre, where we laughed until 
we were tired. Then Frank and I slipped 
away and went off on a little supper spree 
all by ourselves at Rector's. Half-past 
twelve seems to be the crowded time and it 
was great fun to watch the people while 
we discussed blue-points and broiled 
live lobsters. A hansom took us to the 
boat, which we reached at three o'clock. 
We discovered that in our absence some 
one who ranked us had moved our baggage 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

out of No. 15 and deposited it in No. 13, 
and when I awoke in the morning I thought 
bad luck had begun all right. Such a 
head as I had! I spent the morning 
signing the pledge and writing an article 
to be read at the next meeting of the 
W. C. T. U., but when we sailed at one 
o'clock — I was feeling fine. 

There were crowds of people on the 
wharf to see us off, and the band played 
"Auld Lang Syne" and "The Girl I 
Left Behind Me," and the enlisted men 
sang the regimental song with its chorus 
for all they were worth : 

"For it's trot, trot, trot, is the soldier's lot, 
When he lists in the Cavalry. 
And it's hike, hike, hike, which they don't much 
like, 
For our friends of the Infantry. 
Oh! it's shoot, shoot, shoot, when the trumpets toot, 

If you 're in the Artillery, 
And it's fight, fight, fight for your Country's 
might 
In the Cav-al-ry!" 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

The crowd cheered, and when we finally 
pulled away from the dock it seemed as 
if every boat in the harbor saluted us. 
It was simply pandemonium let loose, 
whistles in every possible key all going 
together, the troopers cheering themselves 
hoarse, the band playing, and every one 
in good spirits. Mother and I fairly 
danced up and down to think that we 
were both really aboard. 

The harbor was lovely and we were 
interested in all the sights. Soon we heard 
that there would be a chance to send 
letters or telegrams back by the pilot, 
so I hastily wrote a line to be wired to you. 
Shortly after, word came on deck that some 
one had given the pilot a telegram ad- 
dressed to "Bessie" and as he was un- 
fortunate enough not to know "Bessie," 
he begged for further details. You may 
imagine how foolish I felt leaning over 
the side and screaming the rest of your 
address to him, while his boat bobbed up 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

and down and the crowd guyed me un- 
mercifully. 

Frank received several telegrams and, 
among them, one wishing him "A pleasant 
voyage and a speedy return. " By what 
chance anybody hoped to have his speedy 
return brought about, when he was starting 
on a two years' trip, I can't fathom, — 
whether by desertion, retirement or illness 
I am at a loss to know. 

We were all sitting on deck when it 
suddenly became fearfully rough. People 
began to disappear by ones and twos, 
then in half-dozen lots, followed by a 
regular stampede. Frank and I and one 
other couple sat out on the stern until 
nearly four o'clock watching the water 

and the gulls. Then Captain H 

said, "How beau " and disappeared 

down the companion-way, which made me 
think of something in my state-room that 
I needed at once, and it was simply a 
foot race between the other lady and 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

myself to see who should get below first; 
and Frank was left alone. I remained 
in my state-room until I heard the dinner 
gong and I found it hard even then to 
think of leaving it, but when I reached 
the dining-room and smeiled the roast 
turkey and all the other good things, my 
state-room held out no more charms, 
and I ate everything from oysters to ice- 
cream. For the first two or three days, 
there was only one other lady who attended 
her meals and we felt tremendously proud 
to think that we alone had not been 
victims to mal de mer, but when the rest 
of the ladies began to put in an appearance, 
we learned to our chagrin that none of 
them had been sea-sick. Most of them 
had merely been tired from packing, 
and some had had headaches, but sea-sick, 
"Oh, no!" 

Bobby was sea-sick, but he wants me 
not to tell you, for he says he is not sure 
but that he was just home-sick. He thinks 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

he would not have felt that way at home. 

It has been delightfully warm for the 
last two days, as we have been in the 
gulf stream. We are going south two 
hundred miles out of our course, to avoid 
cold weather, as we are really in no hurry 
(except for the first of the month, — pay- 
day). 

The food is fine, better than we have 
ever had on ocean-liners, and we have 
just seen the tremendous list of good 
things on board. All I remember now 
is two thousand blue-points, three hundred 
pigeons, four hundred broilers, and three 
hundred and fifty pounds of fresh lobster. 
We have nice fruit and lettuce and toma- 
toes, and bang-up good cooks. 

Now, I must turn in. I have been waiting 
for Frank to go on guard, which he does 
at midnight, and he has been trying to 
catch a few winks. If you were only 
here my cup of happiness would surely 
run over. Don't get married until I 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

can find you an officer, for this is certainly 
the most glorious life. It seemed as if 
I couldn't contain myself when the sun 
and band came out together this morning, 
for the first time since sailing. 
Lovingly 

Beth. 



Christmas Eve. 
Dearest Bess: 

I have decided to bring my letter to you 
up to date. (I seem to see what a fine 
blaze these letters will make.) 

It is so beautiful here this morning that 
I could sing for joy, did I not hate to cause 
suffering among the passengers. Nearly 
every one is out on deck, and the band has 
been playing all the jolliest things, and 
we have just passed our first ship. It 
came very near and dipped the Union 
Jack, which we gracefully acknowledged 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

by dipping the Stars and Stripes and play- 
ing "God Save the Queen." 

I wish I could make you realize what 
life on a Transport is like. Two or three 
persons told Mother they thought she was 
very brave to be willing to take a trip on 
a Troop Ship. That sounded English 
and not too attractive, but I had heard 
army people refer to their trips to the 
Philippines with such enthusiasm that I 
felt no qualms. In so many ways it is 
far ahead of travelling on a liner, and not 
the least advantage is the price. When I 
looked up the cost of this trip on a liner 
it fairly took my breath away. Why, 
it would take all Frank's pay for years. 
Yet here we are, going right to the same 
adorable places, paying only one dollar 
a day. How we can live as we do will 
always remain a mystery. Then, it is 
nice to know every one. No matter 
where you find your steamer chair placed, 
you are sure to be near some one in whom 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

you are interested, for the bond between 
members of the same regiment is very 
strong. To be sure there is little room 
to spare, but what could go further to 
prove the popularity of Transports ? 

The deck is perfect, and so little time 
is spent in our state-rooms that what does 
it matter if one has to go outside even to 
sneeze ? Another thing strikes me as 
a great luxury on ship-board. Before, 
I have had to manage with the few things 
that can be jammed into a poor little 
steamer trunk, but here all our trunks 
except those in our state-room are placed 
in a trunk-room, and we have access to 
them whenever we wish. Another com- 
fort is the Commissary. It has all the 
earmarks of the country store, — shoe- 
lacings, pens, pins, stationery, chocolates, 
soft drinks, pickles, everything in fact, 
with the exception of the typical sugar 
barrel to sit on. Last but not least, what 
luxury on a liner could ever make up for 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

the lack of military life ? From reveille 
to taps, the bugle is always calling, and 
on the deck below inspections and drills 
and guard mounts are going on. In the 
afternoon there is the concert by the 
military band and at "Retreat" the dear 
old "Star Spangled Banner" brings us 
all to our feet as the flag comes down. 
Much as I have enjoyed life on ocean- 
liners, it seems like life on a canal boat, 
compared to this. Think that it is the day 
before Christmas, and here we sit out on 
deck wearing our thinnest things, with no 
hats or rugs! 

Guard mount is going on. How I love 
it all! It is good to be alive ! 

I have almost decided on an officer for 
you. He is a West Pointer and has been 
all over the world and knows everything, 
and yet they say he is no more conceited 
than the average man. His record is 
the envy of every lieutenant on board, 
and he is quite good looking, too. The 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

single out about him is his name, which 
is O'Reilly. My only fear is that some 
one will snap one of you up before I can 
bring you together. 

We are going down into the trunk-room 
this morning to take out our Christmas 
things and stow them away in No. 13, 
for this is Christmas Eve. Well, dear 
girl, I shall think of you to-night and wish 
you were all coming to dine with us 
to-morrow. I shall try to write you a 
few lines every night now, until we reach 
Gibraltar, and then if I have the price 
I will send the whole blooming business 
by freight. 

Lots of love, from 

Beth. 



December 31. 
Dear Girl: 

I don't know whether to write first 
my thanks for all the beautiful presents 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

or to tell you how we spent our Christmas. 
I think I will go back to the " night before." 
Christmas Eve was very jolly. We sat 
out on deck and sang songs we all knew, 
even the men joining in from their deck 
below. Then some of the officers formed 
an impromptu band with borrowed in- 
struments, and gave three or four "Wag- 
nerian" pieces, delighting the enlisted 
men who were looking on and cheering 
everything tremendously. Not to be out- 
done they produced two men who did a 
fine clog dance, and our orchestra leader 
gave us one or two charming selections 
on his violin. 

The climax was reached when a little 
before midnight a huge bowl of a certain 
famous egg-nog and a great fruit cake 
appeared as if by magic. We drank to the 

Cavalry and to each other 

and to all the good people at home, and 
before the last toast was over it was time 
to wish every one "Merry Christmas." 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

Such a fine time as we had Christmas 
Day! After breakfast Mother, Frank, 
Bobby and I betook ourselves to No. 13, 
where our many mysterious packages had 
been stowed away. At first it looked 
as if "we uns" and the presents could 
never occupy the state-room at one and 
the same time, but we finally managed it, — 
mother and I on the bob-tailed couch, 
Frank wedged in the corner, Bobby in 
the obliging wash-bowl which came down 
for the purpose, and the packages heaped 
upon the lower bunk. My dear! they 
were lovely, with the dainty white ribbons 
and holly, and we had many a good laugh 
over the jokes. The parasol is a beauty, 
and you may imagine me sporting it when 
we are a little nearer the " imaginary 
line." Such a love of a fan! It is exquis- 
ite. We have already had days when a 
fan is most acceptable. Don't I wish you 
were here to read "The Lightning Con- 
ductor" with me! I am saving all my 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

Christmas books for the last part of our 
trip, as every one says that by that time 
the novelty will have worn off, and we 
shall cordially hate the boat and each 
other, and books will be worth their 
weight in gold. 

The men have trimmed the mess hall 
beautifully with the flags and guidons 
and holly, and although there was no real 
mistletoe a piece of holly over the door 
labeled "Mistletoe" answered every pur- 
pose. The dinner left nothing to be 
desired, unless it were extra space, be- 
ginning with oysters and going through 
roast goose, roast turkey, sucking pig, 
hams boiled in champagne, mince pie 
and English plum pudding. 

There was the killingest Christmas tree 
in the saloon, manufactured from branches 
which may once have borne apples, to 
which were tied sprays of holly, the whole 
decorated with the usual Christmas favors. 
They intended to have a "sure enough" 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

Christmas tree, but at the last moment 
it was forgotten. This was the next best 
thing, and in a way it was better, for no 
one could look at it without laughing. 

We have had nine days of absolutely 
perfect weather, as warm as June and as 
smooth as the proverbial mill-pond. To- 
day is pleasant, but rough! It is " Muster " 
and the men have been trying to stand in 
ranks for roll-call while the waves have 
washed over the lower deck and the 
officers have balanced around on one leg 
in attitudes anything but dignified. It 
is tremendously exhilarating, but we are 
beginning to look in vain for familiar 
faces and if it continues there will be only 
a few of us left to see Madeira this after- 
noon. The band is "all to the bad." 
The music in their souls has given place 
to misery in their "midsts" and they are 
a sorry lot. The band leader crawled 
up on deck this morning, and sat with 
his head in his hands, evidently longing 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

for Home and Mother. The general 
told him that he wished he would "get 
the band out — it would cheer things up — 
it would do the sea-sick passengers a world 
of good — it would probably do the musi- 
cians themselves good." The band- 
master turned a fishy eye upon him and 
replied, in a weak and shaky voice, "It 
might, but it would be an awful thing for 
the cornets!" 

I can't imagine anything more beautiful 
than this trip has been thus far, — warm 
enough to sit out on deck until midnight 
without wraps. We have two concerts 
every day, beside "Guard Mount" and 
" Retreat," and the finest of phonographs, 
with all the new rag-times and two-steps. 

Bobby is blissful and I think this trip 
is going to be the greatest thing in the 
world for him. He is ravenous and it 
delights his soul to give his own order from 
the menu. I wish you could hear him 
call for the French dishes, for he hesitates 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

at nothing and pronounces them exactly 
as they are spelled. Every night he says, 
"This is the best day I have ever had 
in my life." 

January 2. 
When I had written thus far, some one 
came for me to do a mile around the deck 
and then it was dinner time. After that 
we went out and sang until we were hungry, 
and came in to find a fine spread to cele- 
brate New Year's Eve, — fresh lobster, 
sandwiches of all kinds, cheese and beer. 
As a great treat I passed around the box 
of candy Aunt Fanny sent me and every 
one said it was the best ever. Did she 
know that I loved caramels best of any- 
thing ? At midnight, New Year's Eve, the 
ofEcers raised what they called "merry 
Cain," if you know what that is. They 
had the big fog whistle blown three times 
and a tiger; then they got all the band 
instruments, and such a noise you never 
heard. They rigged up some chimes 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

out of beer bottles and played on them 
for about fifteen minutes. Some of the 
passengers were scared. They thought 
the whistle was the fire signal, and when 
it was followed by the bugle they supposed 
it was "Assembly," and were sure the 
end had come. 

It was so rough yesterday that we 
couldn't go near Madeira, but if the 
weather clears up a little to-day we shall 
see the coast of Africa, and to-morrow 
we shall be at Gibraltar. 

Probably I shall not write again until 
after we leave Gibraltar as I have Christ- 
mas letters to write. Hug yourself for 
me hard. With lots of love from 

Beth. 

P. S. O'Reilly won't do at all! I have 
seen him when he is sea-sick, and I want 
nothing like it in the family. He was a 
study in olive drab, and you couldn't tell 
where the uniform stopped and he began. 

2 3 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

Monday night, January 4. 
Dearest Girl: 

I am sitting up in my berth, when I 
ought to be asleep, for I simply can't 
wait to tell you about this place. We 
expected to see Africa last Saturday, but 
it rained and was so foggy that we hadn't 
even a glimpse of it. When we woke up 
Sunday morning, it was still foggy, and 
every one was sick with disappointment 
that our first view of the Rock should be 
under such conditions. 

About noon, the fog lifted and we saw 
the coast of Morocco. A little later Spain 
appeared very faintly, and it stopped 
raining. Finally the sun peeped out just 
long enough to give us the loveliest view 
of a little Spanish village, and a light- 
house surrounded by the greenest grass; 
and another peep showed us an interesting 
old Moorish village. 

At three o'clock, we had our first glimpse 
of the Rock, which, to my surprise, was not 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

in the least like the Prudential adver- 
tisement. Although it had not entirely 
cleared off, still the patch of blue sky grew 
larger and larger as we approached, and 
the Rock grew grander and grander, and, 
my dear, when we were near enough to 
distinguish the red coats of the soldiers, 
out came the sun in all its glory, just as 
if the whole thing had been planned, 
and at the same minute "Retreat" sounded 
and the band struck up the "Star Spangled 
Banner"! I have no words to describe it. 
It was like a beautiful dream. I don't 
know exactly what I had expected but it 
went far ahead of my anticipations. It 
was quite easy to see the big "crouching 
lion," as the Rock is sometimes called, 
with its head on its paws looking toward 
Spain. With our glasses we could dis- 
cover guns peeping out at us from un- 
expected places. What at first appeared 
like trees and rock became fortifications, 
bristling with guns painted to look like 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

an innocent bit of nature. I was thankful 
that our relations with Great Britain 
are not strained. The whole village is 
built on terraces on the steep side of the 
Rock facing us, so that we had a view of 
all the buildings in it, and here and there 
we could see patches of blue and red 
and olive drab where the Tommies were 
having their drills. 

Of course every one was on deck, armed 
either with a Baedeker or a camera, as 
we slowly pulled in to our moorings. 
We hoisted our big quarantine flag which 
looked exactly like a cavalry banner, and 
the doctor came aboard and said we 
could go ashore whenever we pleased. 
Then the governor's representative came 
in oodles of gold lace, and made us feel 
quite important. In the meantime, in- 
numerable little boats were crowding 
around us with oranges growing right out 
of stems with shiny green Reaves (not 
that I supposed they grew out of gas- 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

pipes) and also with delicious figs put up 
in the dearest little baskets. 

We waited only to swallow our dinner, 
and then Frank and I went ashore. We 
had to pass through the quaintest old 
stone gateway adorned with the lion and 
the unicorn. The date 1385 made us 
feel quite juvenile. It was guarded by 
two sentries. Once through, there were 
soldiers everywhere, some of them most 
gorgeous in their scarlet and gold and 
white and their Highland kilts. There 
were priests in shovel hats, and nuns, 
and bare-legged Moors, and Spanish girls 
in lace mantillas, and ladies from the gar- 
rison. It was like a scene on the stage. 

There is only one street of any import- 
ance. In Gibraltar it is a blessed thing to 
be slender (you notice I don't say skinny) 
for the sidewalks are just two feet wide. 
Fortunately the street itself is kept im- 
maculately clean and nearly every one 
walks there. Every Tommy carries his 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

"swagger," or "dinky" stick. It seems 
almost as much a part of him as his little 
pill-box cocked over one ear. We promptly 
invested in several. The sticks are all 
ornamented with silver tops, bearing the 
device of the special regiment Tommy 
belongs to, and there are many different 
designs. I was surprised to discover that 
Gibraltar is not an island, but is joined 
to Spain by a narrow strip of land called 
"neutral ground." However, we were 
told that the gateway between Gibraltar 
and this narrow way is undermined and 
at a moment's notice can be exploded 
so as to transform the great moat into a 
lake, and convert Gibraltar into an island. 
I shall tread softly when I pass over that 
gateway. 

We walked about until we were afraid 
of being locked inside the walls and had 
to tear ourselves away. All the Trans- 
port's passengers were not so foresighted, 
and several of the officers were locked 

28 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

in and had to spend the night on the Rock, 
while their respective wives had visions 
of "battle, murder, and sudden death" 
in hideous forms. 

I tried to send your letter by freight, 
but finally had to see a goodly portion 
of Frank's last pay account converted 
into two-pence half-penny stamps. 

We reached the Transport just in time 
to see the full moon rise behind the Rock, — 
oh, I pinched myself to see if it was real! 

This morning a charming English Major, 
in all his scarlet and gold lace, took a party 
of us over the Royal Engineer's Barracks. 
We were shown everything they wear, 
everything they eat, where they drink, 
and where they live; and I was presented 
with a gilt lion and unicorn which I 
intend to use as a belt buckle. 

It was funny to see how quickly our 
troopers and Atkins were on the most 
intimate footing. We met them repeatedly 
doing the sights together, arm in arm. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

As there is no W. C. T. U. there, Tommy 
has a splendid regimental canteen where 
he can drink his beer from pewter pint- 
pots at a shilling a gallon, and the profits, 
which come up to about two hundred 
pounds a month, are devoted to improving 
his mess. Lucky Tommy! 

The married men are particularly well 
looked after. Their quarters are not as- 
signed according to rank, but by the size 
of their families, — so that a private with 
three children selects his quarters ahead of a 
sergeant with one child. It is needless to say 
that no alarm is felt concerning race suicide. 

We were shown through several of 
the Non Corns' quarters. They have no 
separate houses, but live in one building 
several stories high. Each set has its 
porch where I would gladly have 
spent a whole day, , as it overlooks the 
drill ground, which was like a great 
kaleidoscope, changing every hour, and, 
beyond, the harbor alive with ships. 

3° 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

The men have collected wonderful things 
from different places where they have been 
stationed — exquisite things from India; 
and beautiful things from South Africa, 
to say nothing of unique souvenirs from 
Bermuda, Nova Scotia, and Australia. 
It made me wish that Uncle Sam had more 
foreign possessions. 

After a delicious luncheon at the hotel 
we drove for two hours through the markets 
and gardens and across the narrow stretch 
of neutral land, where we saw the English 
sentries in their red coats on one side, and 
on the other, the Spanish guards in their 
long black cloaks and shiny black hats, 
too picturesque for anything. Judging 
by them we imagined that Spain itself 
would take our breaths away, — and it 
did, but merely because, as firm believers 
in the germ theory, we did not dare to 
draw a good breath in such filth. Dirty — 
oh, my — and such horrid beggars! 

Armed with a Spanish dictionary I 

3 1 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

visited several shops in a vain endeavor 
to buy a Spanish flag, as I wish to make 
a collection of flags from the countries 
we visit. I wish you could have seen the 
collection of things that my Spanish 
brought forth. Everything — I give you 
my word — from a string of garlic to a 
necktie, but a flag — never! — By that 
time I felt that we were covered and 
surrounded by fifty-seven distinct varieties 
of germs, and after one last despairing look 
around, we fled back to British territory. 

We reached the main street just in time 
to see the Spanish workmen going home. 
There are twelve hundred men who come 
over to work on the new gallery for fifteen 
cents a day, and they have to be out of 
the city by six o'clock, when a guard 
escorts them with a fife-and-drum corps, 
and a most pompous person bears the 
key to the gate that locks them out. 

We were so tired then that we came 
home — I mean back to the boat. My 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

eyes are closing now, and yet I haven't 
told you about the hedges of heliotrope 
in bloom, and the roses and violets all 
in blossom — though it is only January — 
and the merchants driving their herds 
of turkeys through the streets, and the flocks 
of goats that were milked from door to 
door, and those funny bare-legged Moors, 
in their yellow slippers and voluminous 
white turbans. I shall go to sleep to dream 
of them. 

• Lovingly, 

Beth. 

January 5. 
Dear Bess: 

Only a word to-night for I feel as if 
I had been run over by a road-roller, and 
thereby hangs a tale ! 

Last night we had word that the admiral 
offered us his private launch — "H. M. S. 
Crocodile'' — for a trip to Tangiers this 
morning! About twenty started off at 

33 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

eight o'clock. The day was not very 
propitious, and it was rough even inside 
the breakwater, but we hoped things 
might improve. The trip is supposed 
to take a little over three hours. After 
we had been tossed about for about two 
hours and most of the ladies had ceased 
to take any interest in Tangiers or in 
anything except their wretched selves, 
the captain sent the general word that 
a coming storm would make it utterly 
impossible for us to land at Tangiers, 
so there was nothing to do but to go back. 
By that time a dreadful squall had come 
up and it had begun to pour. We were 
all huddled in the little cabin, tossed 
around as if it weren't the admiral's 
own launch at all. It took us forever to 
get back, with the sea rougher every 
minute. When at last we reached the 
Crocodile's moorings and thought our 
troubles at an end, we had a really frightful 
time. It was too rough to use the Trans- 

34 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

port launch so they sent three life-boats 
to take us off, and it took six or eight 
sailors to hold them until we could jump 
in. It was only a short distance to the 
Transport, but it is wonderful how much 
can happen in a short space. The boats 
were tossed about like so many peanut- 
shells. Time and again I was thrown 
into the bottom of the boat. The waves 
broke over us, and we were wet to the skin 
and bruised. We didn't know that we had 
been in any real danger until we were once 
more on our own deck, when I found that 
the ship's officers had expected every 
minute the boats would be swamped. 
Maybe we weren't a bedraggled-looking 
lot! I have a hat ribbon bearing the 
legend "H. M. S. Crocodile" as a souvenir 
of my trip to Tangiers, and when I count 
my black and blue spots I feel that it 
was dearly bought. 

After luncheon it grew calm enough so 
that those of us who were not too crippled 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

and lame could go ashore. We joined 
the survivors and drove to the entrance 
of the galleries. Here we annexed a 
most obliging "Non Com. Tommy," who 
showed us everything as far as one is 
allowed to go without a pass. Even 
with a pass, in order to visit the upper 
galleries, one must go blind-folded, but 
this blind-man's-buff performance held 
out no charms for us. Our "Non Com" 
told us that on the summit there are great 
guns that can be fired by electricity from 
the base of the Rock at ships miles and 
miles away, as often the top is so sur- 
rounded by fog and mists that it would be 
impossible to sight an approaching vessel 
from there. It was rather hard to believe, 
but he looked like a perfectly honest man. 
The galleries are like tunnels running 
one after another in a perfect network 
back and forth through the Rock, dark 
as pitch in some places and quite "juicy," — 
a little fact I didn't discover until after 

36 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

I had gaily tripped through a horrid 
puddle nearly over my shoe tops. As a 
consequence, instead of enjoying the mag- 
nificent view, that we had from time to 
time through narrow slits cut in the face 
of the wall, I was searching my memory 
in a vain attempt to think where I had 
packed my bottle of "rhinitis," without 
which life for me would probably soon 
resolve itself into one grand snuffle. 

I was surprised to learn that over 
eight thousand soldiers are garrisoned 
here and that there is a room in the middle 
of the Rock large enough, in case of war, 
to hold all the women and children con- 
nected with the garrison. 

From one of the openings in the Rock 
we looked down on the kennels of the 
Calpe Hounds, one of the most noted 
packs in the British possessions. It is 
provisioned to stand a twenty years' 
siege (the garrison — not the pack), but the 
people probably couldn't live heartily for 

37 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

that length of time. Baedeker tells an 
awful story of one of the thirteen times 
that Gibraltar has been besieged. He 
says that the garrison of six thousand 
lived on grass, horses, rats and cats, but 
as these letters are to be the truth, the 
whole truth, and nothing but the truth, 
I shall not dwell on that. 

When we came back to the Transport 
we were glad to find a big P. and O. boat 
anchored alongside. We decided to get 
the ship's launch and go aboard of her 
after dinner. We had the launch all right, 
but imagine our disgust just as we pulled 
away from the gang-plank, to see her 
quietly slip out of the breakwater, and 
almost before we knew it she was out of 
sight. 

Now I must turn in, as we sail at day- 
break and I want to be up to see if I can 
discover where the Prudential obtained 
that view of the Rock. So good-night! 

Beth. 

38 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

January 9. 
Dear Girl: 

Just a line! We left Gibraltar Wed- 
nesday morning at daybreak and I was 
at last able to see the Rock from the 
Prudential's point of view. In about two 
hours we struck a storm which has lasted 
three days and completely incapacitated 
all but three of the ladies and a goodly 
proportion of the officers. Mother and 
I continued to show up with the remnant, 
although I have seen Mother more hungry. 
My appetite is still ridiculously good, but 
such a cold as I took in those galleries 
at Gibraltar! 

Every one is railing at the blue Medi- 
terranean. The cerulean hue seems to be 
entirely confined to the passengers who 
are slowly perishing from cold. It was 
a cruel blow when I discovered that the 
Blue Danube is a muddy brown, but I 
certainly never expected to find the Medi- 
terranean a dull leaden color. I had also 

39 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

expected that we should meet boats in 
bunches, but we have seen only two and 
they are too far away to be interesting. 
We passed the ruins of Carthage this 
morning and I tried to dig up even one 
small bit from the fund of information 
that you and I absorbed together on that 
subject, — but in vain. 

Many of the blue noses are now hidden 
between Baedeker's scarlet covers, breath- 
ing in facts about Malta with every 
breath. 

I have selected another officer for you 
(I am sick to death of O'Reilly). I 
am not sure yet whether this one is married 
or not, but he is tremendously entertaining 
and has the nicest face. I think he is 
Scotch or English. He sent me a huge 
bunch of violets and Jack roses while we 
were at Gibraltar, and I think he will 
make a charming cousin-in-law. 

I had some laundry done at Gibraltar 
and it is as good as a hearty meal. Most 

40 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

of the garments appear to have been 
boiled in a highly seasoned stew, and the 
bath towels were evidently dipped in a bat- 
ter and fried. I think they must be far 
ahead of the emergency ration in pure 
nutritive value. I shall send out some 
more washing at Malta to add variety 
to the menu. We expect to reach Malta 
to-night or to-morrow morning. 

Our general met Lord Roberts in London 
a short time ago, and Lord Roberts has 
cabled to Malta and all the other ports that 
have British garrisons, where we are to stop, 
and ordered them to be ready to turn out 
and do their best stunts for us. Nice 
of " Bobs," wasn't it ? 

Lots of love from 

Beth. 



4i 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

Shepheard's Hotel, Cairo, 

January 18. 
Dear Angel: 

This is the nearest I shall ever come 
to heaven — so I send you my blessing. 
Yours in bliss, 

Beth. 

sa 

January 22. 
Dearest Cuz: 

Oh, that I had studied shorthand and 
could put a whole sentence into one little 
crooked mark. It seems as if it were only 
yesterday that we reached Malta and yet 
enough has happened to fill four volumes. 
I ought to write a little every day, but 
somehow the days are so pitifully short 
that it is midnight before I know it. 

I must tell you about Malta first. 
We got in on Sunday morning early, 
January II. The harbor was full of 
English warships and we had to wind 

42 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

in and out among them to find our moor- 
ings, and all the Tommies stood at at- 
tention as we passed, and on many of the 
ships they played the Star Spangled 
Banner. There were over thirty ships, 
and each carried a Marconi and had a 
band on board. They gave us our moor- 
ing beside the flagship and its signals had 
a perfect fascination for me. All day 
long men were running up various com- 
binations of colored flags. Then each 
ship in the fleet would run up a little red 
pennant, for all the world like a saucy 
wiggling red tongue, which signified that 
the admiral's signal was seen and under- 
stood. As soon as it was too dark to see 
the flags, a big bright star appeared over 
the admiral's ship and flirted in the boldest 
manner all night long with the stars over 
the other ships. Every time it winked 
they coquettishly winked back. 

Soon after we anchored, Church Call 
was blown on all the ships and we saw 

43 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

all the men marching to their stern decks 
for service. In a little while hymns were 
rising on all sides of us, and each service 
ended with "God Save the King." It 
was like being in the centre of a great 
camp meeting. 

My cold was outrageous, but just the 
same we went ashore after luncheon. 
The little boats in the harbor all had the 
funny prows like the Venetian gondolas, 
but the boatmen were certainly not as 
picturesque. 

A crowd of us hired the funniest car- 
riages — "Carrozzins" they call them — 
that look like four-posted canopied beds 
on wheels. We were driven up town and 
had fun sight-seeing. It is a dear place, 
with steps, steps everywhere — whole streets 
of steps, one street having over a hundred. 
From the moment one sets foot in Malta 
at the long flight of steps at the water- 
front until one returns, it is a constant 
going up and down stairs. 

44 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

After the steps, I think the most pic- 
turesque thing about Malta is the head- 
dress worn by the women, — a voluminous 
black hood with a cape coming down over 
the shoulders. It is unlike anything I have 
ever seen, so I thought I would buy one 
to show you, but when I found that it 
would cost from one to three pounds I 
decided to let your idea of it remain 
vague. The women hold the hoods to- 
gether at the neck. On pretty women 
they are most fetching, and on the plain 
women — well, they cover up a multitude 
of imperfections. They say they were 
originally worn as an act of penance for the 
immorality of the women of Malta during 
the French occupation but, between you 
and me, had they found them less becoming 
and coquettish, I think they would long 
since have forgotten their frail sisters. 
I have been wondering how it would do 
for us to start a bonnet brigade at home. 
The hoods are really becoming and I 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

know people I am ashamed of, for whom 
(if suited to my style) I should be glad 
to do penance. Think it over! 

First we did St. John's Church which 
is one of the richest in the world, with solid 
silver gates fifteen feet high, in one of the 
chapels. You needn't believe that if you 
don't like, but the guide said it and seemed 
offended when some one suggested that 
the silver might not be sterling. These 
gates escaped being added to the rest of 
the plunder seized by the French during 
a siege only by the happy thought of some 
one who painted them green. The chapel 
of St. John is famous from the fact that 
the Malta Knights were buried there. 
There were so many chapels that by the 
time we reached the last it was dark 
and we were gnawed by pangs of hunger, 
so we sought the best hotel, which was 
near, fortunately, as it was pouring. 

Several persons decided to stay at the 
hotel while we were in town, and I was so 

4 6 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

fortunate as to be invited to spend the 
night with one of the ladies. The plan 
was most attractive, and I wish you could 
have seen her room. It was about thirty 
feet high and nearly thirty feet square. 
The windows looked down on the Main 
Guard, where we could see Atkins march- 
ing up and down. 

The officers went out before dinner, 
returning with gorgeous great bunches of 
violets for all the ladies. We sat down 
about ten strong to the jolliest dinner! 
It was just our own particular set, and we 
all know each other so well that it would 
be impossible for us to go anywhere 
together and not have a lark. An ornate- 
colored bust of a young female was in 
the dining-room and one of the officers 
inquired who the lady was. The waiter 
could speak only a few words of English, 
but he managed to say "Queen Victoria — 
She finished. " When at last we had 
eaten and laughed our fill, we felt just 

M 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

in condition for more fun. We found 
Sunday night is the night to go to the 
opera, so we all went, occupying two 
boxes. We couldn't understand a word, 
but we gathered from the programmes 
that it was the opera "Punchinello" in 
Italian, and some of it was so funny that 
we laughed until we cried. The audience 
was enthusiastic and when the opera was 
over they simply went mad and shouted 
something that sounded like "Bal!" "Bal!" 
It proved to be a call for an exquisite 
ballet. The dancers came on in couples 
and gave a short dance — each couple 
followed by another a little more deficient 
in regard to clothing, and it is well they 
worked up to the last gradually as other- 
wise we might have died of heart failure. 
The next day was perfect, and we 
visited the market as soon as breakfast 
was over. It was unique. One can buy 
the smallest amounts of everything — the 
neck of a chicken, or one leg or just a 

4 8 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

pin-feather, if so minded. An ideal place 
to market for a family of two! 

Then we began systematic shopping 
for Maltese lace, and when in the cabin 
at night I saw the quantity purchased 
I wondered if there were any lace left in 
Malta. There were dozens of berthas, 
collars of all shapes and sizes, hand- 
kerchiefs innumerable, and doylies without 
end. 

Then there were the silver filigree shops, 
where every one bought silver Maltese 
crosses for relatives and friends at home, — 
"Now, won't this brooch be just the thing 
for Aunt Fanny ?" and "Here's a stick- 
pin that will do for Harry " — "Oh, wouldn't 
Clara just love one of these pendants for 
her chain," and "Oh, we must get a spoon 
with a cross on it for our collection," etc. 

When we were too tired to shop any 
more, we took a guide and drove to some 
beautiful gardens where there were acres 
and acres of orange and lemon trees 

49 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

loaded with fruit. Something funny hap- 
pened. Fascinating baskets of oranges 
were for sale and when I went out there 
in the morning, I bought one containing 
five dozen, thinking that we four ought 
to be able to eat them all before they 
should decay. I sent them on board by 
Frank's striker and thought no more about 
it. In the afternoon, mother visited the 
gardens and bought a basket of five dozen, 
and while we were both on shore an agent 
went aboard the Transport and sold Frank 
a basket of ten dozen there. When I 
returned to the boat the passage to No. 13 
was entirely barricaded with oranges, and 
as it was impossible to get more than one 
orange into our state-room at a time we 
had a circus trying to dispose of them. 
We couldn't give them away as every one 
had laid in enough to last for days, but 
at last we found an obliging ship's officer 
who stowed them somewhere for us. 

In the afternoon we had more shopping 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

and sight-seeing. I must tell you about 
the Chapel of Bones. We could not go 
in, as it was being repaired, but I was 
content to see what I could from the door- 
way. The entire walls and ceiling were 
covered with bones, human bones, in 
every possible combination and design. 
Thigh bones were employed to produce 
a lattice effect across the vaulted arch of the 
nave, dados of solid skulls beautified the 
side walls. Arms were cleverly arranged 
to form dainty herring-bone borders and 
more intricate designs were made from 
fingers and toes. Apparently, the designs 
gave out before the bones, for there were 
huge bins filled with these still waiting 
to be arranged. There is certainly an 
opening there for members of the Arts 
and Crafts. 

Now I can tell you about what were, 
to me, the most adorable things in Malta. 
It wouldn't do to speak of them before 
mentioning St. John's and the Chapel of 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

Bones and other larger objects, but they 
come to the top every time I think of 
Malta. These were the little Maltese 
dogs. The breed is peculiar to Malta 
(I found 'there were no Maltese cats) and 
never in my life have I seen anything in the 
canine line half as dear. They are the 
softest little balls of fur, some black and 
some white, and so tiny that the men who 
were selling them held two in each hand. 
They looked for all the world like Japanese 
toys with their little stubby noses and 
beady eyes, and they cost only one dollar 
apiece. I thought at first that life simply 
could not be supported without at least 
one, but after I had mentally measured 
the state-room, I realized that, small as 
he was, it would necessitate turning out 
the trunk or Frank or Bobby, and I had 
to close my eyes and let them drag me 
away. 

Frank had hunted up a little French 
restaurant where we went for a good 

52 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

dinner. I had to have each course re- 
peated until the waiters were fairly ap- 
palled at my appetite, but everything 
was delicious. 

We were certainly treated royally at 
Malta. The officers were made guests 
of the Malta Club, and the ladies were 
invited to a beautiful tea given at one of 
the handsomest villas, and to a tea on 
board one of the warships, and also to 
a hop given by the navy officers at the 
Junior Officers' Club. About a dozen 
officers were also invited to a dinner on 
board the battleship London, given by the 
"Queen's own Regiment." 

We sailed at sunrise Wednesday morn- 
ing. It was a gorgeous sight, and I wished 
I could call for repeats as I did at the little 
French restaurant. It seemed lonely to 
go away by ourselves after having been 
surrounded by nearly the entire Medi- 
terranean fleet. The trip from Malta 
to Port Said was without particular ex- 

53 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

citement. The weather continued cold 
and rainy on the "beautiful blue Medi- 
terranean," and I was glad to say good- 
bye to it. 

Frank stayed on the boat and went 
through the Canal. I left Bobby in charge 
of the wife of one of the enlisted men, 
while mother and I joined a party of about 
forty who went to Cairo and met the 
Transport at Suez. I wouldn't have missed 
that trip if I had had to go all the way on 
my knees. 

Cook's agent came aboard the boat, and 
all we had to do was to "follow the man 
from Cook's" and enjoy ourselves, which 
we did to the limit. 

Port Said is a dirty place, but foreigny. 
It has the reputation of being the wickedest 
place on the map, and reasoning on the 
theory that "cleanliness is next to godli- 
ness," I can believe it. All the women 
had their faces covered, and if they were 
as homely as the men it is a blessed thing. 

54 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

We had a comfortable carnage on the 
train with a jolly couple, whom we liked, 
and two young lieutenants, and a swell 
native, who proved to be It! He was 
sufficiently important to have a delegation 
of over fifty people to see him off, and you 
should have seen them kiss him on both 
cheeks. He had something about " Canal " 
on his card, but as it was in his native 
language we couldn't make it out. I think 
he must either have owned it, or made it 
or something. We discovered in course 
of time that he spoke French and he told 
us everything about the country we were 
passing through. We stopped at Ismailia 
for luncheon (I wish you could hear me 
pronounce that. After a fifteen-minute 
lesson from the Canal man, you would 
think me a native of the place). The 
waiters were Arabs in all their gorgeous- 
ness. The first camels fairly threw us 
into fits — they were so picturesque — but 
before we left Cairo we were so hardened 

55 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

that we could see a whole cavalcade 
without screaming over each individual 
camel. Did you know that their feet 
are all soft and mushy, and that they 
flatten out? 

The road from Port Said to Ismailia 
is the most God-forsaken place that can 
be imagined, and the poverty of the 
people is sickening. Not a tree nor a blade 
of grass can grow, and the huts of the 
people are hovels of filth. No wonder 
that nearly all the people are diseased. 
Only about one person in ten has both 
eyes, and there are the most revolting 
cripples. The railroad runs beside the 
Canal for miles, so we were able to see it 
without taking the trip through it. All 
the boats leave Port Said at night, and it 
takes seventeen hours to make the run, 
as they cannot go faster than six miles 
an hour. 

It cost our Government twelve thousand 
dollars to run our Transport through. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

No — that seems too much. Perhaps it was 
twelve hundred or maybe only one hundred 
and twenty. Anyway there was a twelve 
about it and you may call it anything you 
please. Figures were never my long suit. 

After leaving Ismailia the country began 
to grow more green and the climax was 
reached at Cairo in the most beautiful 
tropical vegetation. There are palm trees 
of every variety, and the grass and shrubs 
look deliciously cool and green after the 
desert sand. 

We arrived at four o'clock. Cook's agent 
had telegraphed from Port Said to engage 
our rooms at Shepheard's Hotel and their 
carriages were waiting for us. And oh 
Bess, they were most ornate and all the ser- 
vants, either Arabs or Bedouins, wore the 
native costumes, immaculately clean and 
resplendent with gold braid and buttons. 
There was no delay about the luggage 
and before we knew it we found ourselves 
drawn up in front of Shepheard's. I have 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

wanted you before, but it seemed at that 
moment as if I must have you. Shep- 
heard's was the last straw. So many thou- 
sand people have been there for a good time, 
that it just seems to be in the air. You 
know you are going to have the time of your 
life, and you have it! There are other 
hotels there, newer and more expensive, but 
to me Shepheard's is as much a part of 
Cairo as the Pyramids. Such Oriental 
luxury! Such a garden with palm trees 
up to the third story windows, roses 
everywhere, and all kinds of strange 
tropical flowers in blossom in January! 
Beautiful Eastern rugs and hangings, fine 
music, and, last but not least, a delect- 
able table! 

The dining-room was a picture with 
exquisite Moorish lamps, and marble pil- 
lars, and high-backed chairs upholstered 
in scarlet leather, the waiters adding a 
charming bit of color with their scarlet 
fezzes, jackets worn over the fullest of 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

white flowing trousers, and their feet 
encased in scarlet slippers. The orchestra 
of a dozen pieces played without notes, 
and they knew how! Dinner was per- 
fectly served. Everything was piping hot 
and daintily garnished, and we did full jus- 
tice to all the nine courses. For our espe- 
cial benefit the orchestra played the " Star 
Spangled Banner" and "Yankee Doodle," 
which were received with great enthusiasm. 
After the dinner, which lasted until about 
nine o'clock, some of us decided that 
sleep would be out of the question until 
we had seen something of the town, so 
we walked up and down the main street, 
gazing in all the shop windows until we 
were tired. Then we hunted up the 
Opera House, where they were playing 
Aida. We tried to buy tickets, but found 
that on Sunday nights the whole house 
is sold by subscription. It is English 
night and very exclusive. That made us 
all the more anxious to go inside. We ex- 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

plained to the man in the ticket office how 
far we had come, and how great our 
disappointment was, and how we longed 
to see Aida once more before we began 
our two years' exile in the Philippines. 
He said he was sorry he could not sell 
us any seats, but if we cared to go in 
and stand up, as his guests, it would give 
him the keenest joy. So, to please him, 
we went. Oh, such jewels and flowers! 
Occasionally we pulled ourselves together 
and looked at the stage, but I am ashamed 
to say that for the greater part of the time 
we looked at the people. All were in 
evening dress, even up in the third balcony, 
and there were beautiful women. We 
dared not stay until the end, for fear our 
friends at the hotel would think we were 
lost, but it took a wrench to leave. 

Mother and I planned to rise at six 
o'clock the next morning to do a little 
sight-seeing on our own account, before 
"the man from Cook's" should hustle 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

us all off to the Pyramids. Imagine our 
horror, when we rang for hot water, to 
find that it was eight-thirty and the party 
was to start promptly at eight. That was 
not the only thing that filled us with horror. 
Imagine ringing for the chamber-maid 
and having her appear in the shape of an 
Arab standing six feet two in his stockings, 
arrayed in flowing robes and supporting 
a turban the size of a barrel! We had 
no time to waste in idle words, for we were 
both dressing as if the hotel were on fire, 
but occasionally mother would save breath 
enough to ejaculate," Scandalous !" "Ridic- 
ulous!" Fortunately for us there were 
others who overslept and by swallowing 
our breakfasts whole we managed to 
overtake our party at the little station 
where the electric cars start for the Pyra- 
mids. Think of going to the Pyramids 
by electric cars! 

While we waited for our car, we all 
invested in strawberries, put up alluringly 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

in the shape of pyramids in little baskets 
made of woven rushes. The berries were 
the handsomest I have ever seen — also 
the most hopelessly sour and hard. As I 
was presented with mine, I had to make 
a pretense of eating them, but my path 
from the station to old Cheops might have 
been traced by strawberries. From the 
cars there were so many things to see that 
it was worse than a three-ringed circus. 
We crossed the Nile and had a chance 
to see the much talked of dahabeeyahs — 
and really they are not half as bad as you 
would think after spelling it. I hoped 
we might take a little boat ride, not so 
much for the ride as to be able to say 
afterwards when I go out in a boat — "This 
makes me think of the last time I was on 
the Nile," or "This is so different from 
the boating on the Nile." Unfortunately 
there was no chance for it. 

We had our first glimpse of the Pyramids 
on our way from Ismailia to Cairo. I am 

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not going to describe them, as it is im- 
possible. They are grand — but think of 
the sacrilege! Under Cheops' very nose 
is a golf course where they tee the ball 
and drive with their brassy putties. I 
wonder the ghost of Rameses doesn't 
smite them. 

We had our choice between riding on 
camels or donkeys, that were lined up wait- 
ing for us where the cars stop. While try- 
ing to decide, we saw the last donkey 
mounted and towed away. It then became 
a question, which camel. They all emitted 
the most blood-curdling noises when we 
approached, and just as we would decide 
on one, he would let out a vicious snarl 
that put him completely out of the running. 
In vain, we ran up and down trying to 
discover one with a saintly expression 
and dreamy eyes. One by one they 
disappeared, bearing our screaming but 
braver-hearted friends, and we were left 
alone. Then we grew desperate. We 

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made up our minds that we would mount 
the next thing that showed up with two 
humps. Just then a camel driver ap- 
proached and inquired, "You want 
camels ?" We assured him that it was our 
only wish, and he said, "Wait one little 
time — I go my house — get John Drew and 
Carrie Nation." Off he flew, followed by 
half a dozen blue night-gowned donkey 
boys. I took an immediate dislike to 
Carrie Nation, even before I saw her, and 
hastened to choose John Drew. I was 
glad I did, for when the cavalcade returned, 
what do you suppose ? Following close at 
Carrie's heels was the most adorable baby 
camel only nine days old. It was a darling, 
just like ecru velvet. Neither John nor 
Carrie seemed to favor the idea of going 
to the Pyramids. They filed loud objec- 
tions to lying down, and still louder and 
more emphatic protests against getting up, 
but these were drowned by our own 
shrieks. I give you my word that we got 

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up in eight different directions at once. 
Once up it was not half bad. Mother and 
I fully agree on this point, only she thinks 
it is wholly bad. 

It behooved us to make all possible 
speed to catch up with the crowd, but 
Carriette soon became tired and fell be- 
hind. Then Madame refused to move, and 
the camel driver and donkey boys hustled 
the baby along with the aid of a stick, 
whereupon she emitted the dearest squeal, 
always the signal to Mrs. Nation to "right 
about face" in spite of Mother's fran- 
tic expostulations. When a camel turns 
around in a hurry, an earthquake seems 
like a trifle in comparison. I wouldn't 
dare to say how many times this per- 
formance was repeated, but by the time 
we had done the Pyramids, the Sphinx, 
and the Temple, I had a pain in my side 
from laughing and poor Mother was worn 
to a frazzle. She thought she had been 
abused, and when they charged her not 

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only for her camel and camel driver and 
guide, but also demanded four piastres 
for the baby, she nearly collapsed. We had 
a fine guide. He told me that he went 
only with Americans, and after studying 
me closely he confided to me that he made 
a specialty of Yankees from Boston. 
Pretty good guess ! 

Any details you may desire in regard 
to what we saw — dates, dimensions, or 
work of construction, — you will find in 
Baedeker, page 182. I seem to see you 
making a mad rush for the book — not! 

On the way back the guide showed us 
the exact spot where Moses was discovered. 
I was hungry enough to swallow anything, 
so it went! 

After a delicious luncheon we formed 
a procession in Shepheard's victorias and 
took an ideal drive. We went through 
Old Cairo, visited an old Coptic Church, 
and saw an old gate that dates back to 
300 B. C, which made the one at Gibraltar 

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seem very up to date. Then we drove 
to the Citadel and saw the place where the 
Marmelukes jumped over the precipice, 
and from there to the Alabaster Mosque, 
where the four most beautiful rugs in the 
world are to be seen and you have to put 
on funny shoes and go scuffing around. 

Even the pedlars are fascinating. They 
sell the prettiest dusters, made of reeds 
and beads, to brush away the flies, strings 
of beads, and shells, and funny flutes made 
of pieces of bamboo all bound together. 
I wanted every one I saw, but I had heard 
of a shop across the way where could be 
found the dearest little knives and pencils 
and paper-cutters, all in the shape of 
mummy-cases, many of them opening, 
with tiny little mummies inside; also* little 
charms in the shape of baskets made of 
bulrushes, which on opening revealed 
a little black Moses, so I tried to be 
satisfied with buying only what I could 
carry. 

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Of course we had to visit the market 
and then went back to Shepheard's, where 
we had tea and little cakes served out on 
the terrace and saw more in five minutes 
than could be seen anywhere else in a 
month. Every nationality under the sun 
was represented. There was a beautiful 
bride from Holland (her husband was with 
her, but he was only English), a newly 
married couple from Siam, several Poles 
and Russians, and an Arab chief and his 
wives, besides dozens of others. 

While we were sitting there a funeral 
passed. First came all the little boys 
walking along, saying "Ya-Ya!" then the 
men singing a chant, then "the deceased," 
carried on the shoulders of eight men. 
Something was built up on the feet of the 
departed, and on top of that was his fez. 
It seemed to me that it would have been 
more sensible to put it on his head, but 
probably there was some good reason for 
it. His wives followed, — and they were 

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legion. I asked the guide if they were 
really all "sure enough wives," and he said, 
"Not same like wives, but half are real 
wives." 

After dinner a hop was given for us 
at the hotel, and we danced until we 
couldn't hold our eyes open. 

The next morning the guide took us to 
the famous Bazaar, but everything is so 
expensive that I didn't buy half I wanted. 
The Bazaar is divided into innumerable 
little narrow streets, each devoted to one 
particular article. Wouldn't I have liked to 
have a thousand dollars to spend ! I nearly 
lost my mind over the brasses! Finger 
bowls, lamps, trays, bowls, everything 
that one can conceive in brass. In another 
little street there was nothing but shoes; in 
another, a maddening display of Oriental 
scarfs, some embroidered and some with 
designs wrought in gold and silver. An- 
other street was devoted to perfumes and 
sachet powders, reeking with attar of 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

roses. From there we were to go to the 
Museum for of course we thought we could 
not leave Cairo without seeing Rameses; 
but our carnage was caught in a blockade 
and for half an hour we couldn't move up 
nor down. In vain our driver used his 
most effective profanity — sometimes in one 
language and sometimes in another, in 
four altogether. At last we moved, but 
only just in time to make a mad dash 
for the train. Our cars were engaged 
and our luggage was in them when we 
arrived — thanks to Cook — and we were 
soon flying over the road toward Suez. 
At noon we repaired to a dining-room car 
where a refreshing luncheon was served. 
We stopped at Nifiche a few minutes 
and had the good luck to find there a large 
party of pilgrims from Thibet, on their 
way to Mecca. They wore long quilted 
robes and immense turbans. While we 
were looking at them, a few of us sur- 
reptitiously " pressing the button," without 

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any warning down they all flopped on 
their knees. They proceeded with their 
devotions as oblivious of every one else 
as if we had been so much dirt. They 
threw sand over themselves and took 
off their shoes and banged their heads 
on the ground and did many funny tricks. 
I took some fine pictures of them both 
"Before" and "After." 

We arrived at Suez about six o'clock, 
found the launch, and reached the Trans- 
port just in time for dinner. They were 
waiting only for us and the minute the last 
one was aboard, they weighed anchor 
and started down the Gulf of Suez. 

I needn't say that we sat up until after 
midnight talking it all over and striving 
vainly to describe it to the unfortunates 
who stayed on board. I was glad I didn't 
take Bobby for it would have been too 
strenuous for a child, and he and Frank 
had had a beautiful time. 

The next morning found us in the Red 

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Sea, which has been like glass ever since 
and deliciously warm, We expect to 
reach Aden next Sunday. Isn't it funny 
how we reach each port on Sunday ? 

Well, I am afraid you are on the verge 
of "nervous prosperation," as old John 
used to say, if you have read all this, 
and I have symptoms of writer's cramp; 
so I will ring off. 

Lots of love and a big hug for yourself. 
Try to prepare yourself for more trouble 
at an early date. 

Lovingly, 

Beth. 



January 30. 
Dearest Cousin: 

Here we are in the Indian Ocean, 
wearing our thinnest things and lying 
around on deck doing nothing, unless you 
can call watching the flying fish an oc- 
cupation. They are the prettiest things, 

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and there are such quantities of them, 
some blue, some green, and some silver. 
We have had ideal weather since leaving 
Suez, and the much maligned Indian 
Ocean, which all the poor sailors have 
been dreading, has been as smooth as 
glass. 

We reached Aden last Sunday. It 
is said that the Garden of Eden was lo- 
cated there. There is no accounting for 
taste, or possibly it is greatly changed, 
but I assure you that at present it would 
not require the services of an angel with 
a flaming sword to keep me out! There 
is nothing gardenesque about it now and 
even the apple-tree is wanting. We went 
ashore immediately after luncheon, took 
carriages, and drove about five miles 
to the Great Tanks. They were built, 
as you probably know, by King Solomon 
and hold twenty million gallons, when 
full, but they have not been full for eleven 
years, for it usually rains not oftener than 

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once in three. Now I don't wish to 
criticize any one with the reputation of 
Solomon, but it seems to me a great lack 
of foresight to build a tank holding twenty 
million gallons in a place where it rains 
only in leap year, or thereabouts. Of 
course, he may have intended to have it 
piped for city water, or something, but 
when we saw the tanks all were empty 
but one, and that had about enough 
water to wash a cat in. 

I can truthfully say that the natives at 
Aden seem not to feel their loss keenly, 
and it is probably because they have never 
seen water. 

I have never been in a country where 
the natives differed so widely as here. 
Their complexions vary from inky black 
to a pale, dyspeptic color, and their hair, 
which is woolly and strongly resembles 
the little mat to be found in the bottom 
of hacks, is dyed and bleached every color 
of the rainbow. In fact, there is but one 

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feature in which they resemble one another 
and that is dirt! You can't imagine any- 
thing funnier than one of the jet-black 
men with a mop of bright orange hair 
sticking out from his head about four 
inches. Most of them look as if they 
were made up for a minstrel show. 

We were followed the whole five miles 
to the Tanks by about a dozen dirty little 
hoodlums in the altogether, who caught 
hold of the carriage and ran along beside 
it, crying "I ain't got no Mudder, I ain't 
got no Fadder, I ain't got nothing to eat, 
and I feel so bad right here," rolling their 
eyes horribly and patting their little tum- 
mies. Bobby thought it must be an 
orphan asylum out for an airing. Some 
of them sang, " Daisy Bell, give me your 
answer, do!" They were certainly funny, 
but a great nuisance. 

After the Tanks we visited Old Aden, 
and when I say that it is dirtier than Aden, 
I hope I have said enough. The people 

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wore every possible costume, and some not 
even that — and the children of Bobby's 
age without exception wore only smiles. 

We had been led to believe from the 
guide-books that in Aden green monkeys 
were as common as dirt (and that is 
"going some"), also sheep with tails 
weighing "from ten pounds up." I be- 
came nearly cross-eyed trying to do the 
sights and yet keep one eye always on the 
alert for these two unusual features, but 
my most conscientious search failed to 
discover any monkeys, green or otherwise. 
I am beginning to regard guide-books 
with cruel suspicion. 

It is a great place for ostrich feathers. 
Plumes are cheap and beautiful, but I 
bought none as I thought it would be hard 
to keep them in the Philippines. However, 
at the last minute I went back and bought 
two ostrich fans mounted on shell, and I 
had one marked B. B. H. for you. I hope 
you will like it. 

7 6 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

At Aden, too, is a fascinating variety 
of baskets, made in the dull reds, yellows 
and browns, and all with tight-fitting 
covers. They are in all sizes from one 
large enough to put a grown person in to 
tiny little ones the size of your hand. 
(That was not intended to be a com- 
pliment, but you may take it as such.) 
It was hard to find large baskets, as that 
big P. & O. boat that ran away from 
us at Malta had just sailed after two days 
here and had carried away a great many. 
While I was running around, vainly 
trying for a big one, most of the little 
ones were snapped up, but I managed 
to secure a few. 

Every time I leave my camera on board, 
the sun blazes away as if it were paid 
by the hour; and when I take it, it pours. 
It has reached the point now that the 
passengers implore me to leave it on the 
boat so that they needn't take their um- 
brellas. At least, I caught a great picture 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

of Miss Carrie Nation which I am having 
copied to send you. 

The table, instead of growing poorer 
the farther we go from the States, is 
better every day. Frank bought enough 
delicious Rioja claret at Malta to have 
every night as far as Manila, and I have 
some of my Christmas candy; so we are 
living like fighting-cocks. 

Darling! The officer I picked out for 
you is married and has a daughter! Was 
there ever such luck ? Well, just wait! 
You'll probably draw an Astorbilt and then 
you can take this trip on your own yacht. 
Isn't "The Lightning Conductor" great? 
There are seven on the waiting-list for it. 
Speaking of books reminds me that night 
before last I decided it would be a pro- 
pitious time to bring out the book on 
astronomy and begin our study of the 
southern constellations. When I first 
broached the subject to Bobby, he was 
woefully lacking in enthusiasm. In fact, 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

he seemed to hold a decided aversion to 
the study of astronomy, but when he dis- 
covered that it was to be studied after 
bedtime, it put on a very different aspect, 
and he promptly decided to make it his 
life work. Armed with the book and 
followed by Bobby and a few congenial 
souls who hungered for knowledge, we 
climbed to the upper deck and stationed 
ourselves beneath an electric light. The 
book was profusely illustrated and simple! 
Oh, my, yes! but not one-thousandth part 
as simple as I was when I bought it, 
for oh, my dearest Cousin! the south- 
ern constellations were conspicuous by 
their absence! Think of the miles I 
walked to buy it. I am sure I told the 
first five clerks that it must be illustrated, 
simple, and have the Southern Cross and 
the Ship in it, but towards the end I may 
have left out the important part. My 
disgust was beyond all words, the more 
so as my friends considered it a cause for 

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mirth! To Bobby it was a calamity, and 
he is at this moment lying awake in his 
bunk trying to think up or invent some 
other study which must be attacked after 
bedtime. 

Good-night, dear girl. Our next stop 
is Colombo and if it even partially comes 
up to the descriptions in the guide-books, 
it must be all right! 

Good-bye until then, 
Beth. 

Galle Face Hotel, Colombo, 

February 2. 
Angel! 

Where are you ? Here I am in Seventh 
Heaven and your place as leading angel 
is vacant. 

Oh, Bess, I thought Cairo was perfect 
but this place has everything I ever heard 
or read of done to a finish ! The hotel is 
on the bay and with its grove of feathery 

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palms, the magnificent beach, the glorious 
surf, the native servants as thick as flies 
in a bake-shop, and the setting sun, it is 
too beautiful to be real. I wish you could 
have seen us half an hour ago when we 
came tearing across the beach and up the 
driveway in three jinrikshas. Oh, such 
fun! The rickshaw runners here are the 
finest in the world, and maybe they can't 
make tracks! We have been here all 
day and have enjoyed enough to last 
ten years. We have seen the snake- 
charmers and the Hindoo jugglers, and I 
feel that I have lived. They arranged a 
fight between a cobra and a mongoose for 
our benefit, which was no easy matter as 
it was a toss-up which was more afraid 
of the other — but it was fearful neverthe- 
less, and the snake was the winner. I 
saw them plant a seed that grew in five 
minutes to be a tree. I positively don't 
know whether I am afoot or on horseback. 
How I wish you were here! Beth. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

February 5. 
Dearest Girl: 

Here we are on the water again, and the 
whole stop at Colombo seems a perfect 
dream that defies description. 

We got in early Tuesday morning and 
before I was dressed we were surrounded 
by fascinating boats made of trees hol- 
lowed out, with pieces of bamboo for 
oars. The boats were unique, but not 
a circumstance to the boys inside. They 
looked as if they were made out of Baker's 
chocolate, and as to their clothes — well 
they could have hung them all in No. 13. 
They were the dearest little fellows as they 
stood up in their wobbly little boats and 
sang "Ta-ra-ra-Boom-de-ay," keeping time 
by flapping their arms against their sides. 
Then they begged us to throw money 
for them to dive for. A dozen or more 
would be sitting on their haunches on the 
extreme edge of their boats calling, "Dive!" 
"Dive!" Suddenly a little piece of silver 

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would fly through the air and before it 
could reach the water every boy would be 
under water and there would be a scram- 
bling. The boy who found it would chuck 
it into his cheek (the fear of germs hav- 
ing evidently not reached this place) and 
they would begin again — "Dive! Dive!" 
At the end of half an hour, some of the 
best divers looked like squirrels, their 
cheeks were so puffed out. For a six- 
pence they would climb like monkeys, 
up the ropes of our boat, and dive from the 
hurricane-deck. 

By the time I had swallowed my break- 
fast in two bites and reached the deck, 
the hindoo jugglers were on board with 
their cobras and magic trees, and mer- 
chants of all kinds came, some with 
jewels, for which Colombo is famous, 
some with baskets, and all with elephants. 
Large elephants and small elephants, ivory 
elephants and ebony elephants, and silver 
and gold elephants. How we bought! 

8.3 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

We all became elephant crazy and couldn't 
get enough. Out of consideration to the 
capacity of No. 13 I confined myself to 
the little ones. 

The boat was so attractive that it 
seemed as if Colombo itself couldn't 
be nicer, but it proved to be only a taste 
of what we found on landing. 

We walked to the Grand Oriental 
Hotel, a three minutes' walk from the 
landing, and in that short distance we saw 
the dearest rickshaws, funny little bull 
carts, natives with everything under the 
heavens to sell, guides in green and blue 
uniforms, policemen in blue and scarlet, 
Buddhist priests in yellow robes, Cingalese 
with big tortoise-shell combs in their 
hair, Hindoos in flowing white draperies, 
Afghanistans in the funniest baby blue and 
pink draped trousers, priests of the Sacred 
Temple, wearing big hats in the shape of 
a cow's foot, — why I could use all the ink 
on the boat and not tell you half that we 

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saw. How I envied the animals in Revela- 
tion "with eyes before and behind," for 
two eyes seemed quite inadequate to the 
occasion. 

We reached the hotel in time for luncheon 
where we had our introduction to curry, 
while the band, stationed on a balcony 
over our heads, regaled us with "Yankee 
Doodle," "Dixie," "America," and the 
" Star Spangled Banner." To be sure they 
played " Yankee Doodle" as a dirge, very 
andante and impressionato; but they meant 
well and the tune was there. 

After luncheon we shopped a little, 
while waiting for our guide and rickshaws. 
The guide, by the way, said he was from 
Vermont, but I hate to think it for he 
bled us unmercifully. All the shops are 
built under arcades, as it is not safe to be 
out in the sun, and the proprietors stand 
outside their respective doors and beg the 
"dear lady" and "the master" just to 
look at their things — "Not buy, just 

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look." This is an exquisitely polite race 
of people. I felt as if I must offer the 
most profuse apologies whenever I came 
out empty-handed. Frank bought a khaki 
helmet for Bobby, as his head was so 
unprotected that it was not safe for him 
to be out. I forgot to tell you that after 
Bobby had seen some of the enlisted men 
with their heads shaved we had no peace 
until we let him go to the barber, and such 
a fighting-clip as the man gave him! 
I think he looks like an embryonic convict 
and call him "Trusty No. 908," but Frank 
thinks it is all right and Bobby is ecstatic. 
No more partings for him for one time! 
I have taken a picture of him in his khaki 
suit and helmet, which I will send you if 
it is good. 

By that time our rickshaws were waiting 
and with the Vermonter in the first one 
off we flew. We went through the Euro- 
pean part first and saw perfect dreams 
of bungalows with the dearest little rick- 

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shaws waiting under their porticos, and 
servants in liveries that rival any in the 
world — the liveries, not the servants — 
though they look as if it might be true of 
both. The number of servants at each 
house was appalling — a child a year old 
often has six at his disposal, and I doubt 
if any of them have Thursday afternoon 
out. We visited the museum, which is 
full of wonderful things, and I began to 
regard anything later than the flood as 
recent. One curious thing there is the 
living leaf insect. It was on a plant in a 
case and the only way one could tell the 
bug from the leaf was that it moved. 
Leaf and insect were about two inches 
long, and had the same shape and the 
same veinings. There were some dear 
little night monkeys there, about as big 
as your fist, with eyes like owls and little 
side whiskers. When we woke them up 
they blinked and put on the most injured 
expression. 

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Next we went through the old native 
part of the town. We overtook a funeral 
procession and our guide said we were near 
the cemetery, and could see the burial 
if we liked. The people were too poor 
to have a casket and the body was carried 
on a sort of litter woven of palm leaves. 
They were too poor even to have a grave, 
so they hired one for two months and dug 
it themselves. That was bad enough, but 
when they removed the clothing from 
the corpse rather than bury it, it seemed 
too sordid. We were told that the woman 
was a bride and the poor lover had hys- 
terics and fell down by the grave. They 
placed food beside the body, and then the 
mourners filled the grave, and stamped 
it down, and made a mound over it, and 
stuck it full of branches of flowering 
shrubs. All this time the lover was 
wailing and our hearts were wrung with 
pity for him in his great grief. They gave 
him a big jar of water, which he placed on 

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his shoulder and then the only woman 
present took a small knife and cut two 
little holes in the jar so that a small stream 
of water ran out on both sides. With this 
he walked slowly around the grave while 
the water ran out, incidentally wetting 
him to the skin, and then the mourners 
took the jar away and smashed it at the 
head of the grave. The procession then 
started off, the lover in the lead followed 
by all the mourners, — and the laundry 
man brought up the rear with the clothes! 
When we saw them next, about fifteen 
minutes later, as we had taken in a high- 
caste funeral in the meantime, they were 
having a picnic by the roadside, eating 
and drinking and having a regular jolli- 
fication. The recently bereaved lover 
seemed to be making goo-goo eyes at 
the woman. O, Fickleness! thy name is 
Man! 

After that we went to a cinnamon grove 
but I must be honest and say that never 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

once did I breathe any of the spicy breezes. 
I think they are like the green monkeys 
of Aden — a blooming lie. We began to 
search for that spicy smell when we were 
fifty miles outside of Ceylon, as we had 
been assured by our guide-books that the 
atmosphere for miles was heavy with it. 
In vain we sniffed and sniffed from every 
possible angle. Nothing more spicy than 
warm machine oil greeted our olfactory 
nerves. In the early morning I thought 
I noticed a new odor. It was very slight 
and elusive, but I traced it around to the 
starboard-side and it proved to be break- 
fast bacon! My dear! When I write a 
guide-book I shall put in nothing about 
smells that aren't there, neither will I 
fill a trusting mind with visions of emerald- 
hued monkeys on a chance that no one 
will be foolish enough to discover the fraud. 
We enjoyed the drive to the Country 
Club, where they were playing a lively 
game of polo, in spite of the heat, and we 

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visited the Barracks, passing on the way 
about fifty members of the Salvation 
Army. You can't imagine how funny 
they looked in flowing red and white 
robes, playing on tambourines. 

We took dinner at the Galle Face 
Hotel, where I wrote you a note. After 
dinner we sat out on the terrace, where 
they had little tables and delightfully 
comfortable lounging chairs, and had our 
coffee and cordial while the officers smoked; 
and we were all glad we came. The waves 
were rolling in at the foot of the terrace, 
and when one of the native servants 
pressed a button and little red, blue, 
yellow and white stars began to appear 
all through the grove of beautiful palms 
and lovely shrubs scattered here and there, 
even to the very top of the tallest palm, 
it was like fairy-land. Bobby was wild 
over it. He is not usually enthusiastic 
over scenery, but that scene would have 
appealed to a Cigar Indian, and, besides, 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

he was sitting up after his bedtime, which 
always makes him blissful. He grew 
rather sporty as the evening progressed 
and wanted to smoke a cigarette. You 
may imagine our horror, but it was as 
nothing to our consternation when he 
announced in an F. F. treble, "Why it's 
nothing new. I smoked two once with 
Albert Brown." 

At last we had to drag ourselves away, 
and we hired four lovely rubber-tired 
white upholstered rickshaws, and away 
we went to the boat. It was about a mile 
to the boat-landing over an ideal road of 
hard red clay, with a glorious full moon 
overhead and the ocean beside us most 
of the way. It was adorable! The Bud- 
dhists believe this is forty miles from 
Heaven, but I think they overestimate 
the distance. 

We went to bed about midnight but 
were up again by seven and on shore by 
eight, where our guide was waiting for us. 

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We devoted the whole morning to shopping. 
We went all through quaint Slave Island, 
where they make everything that can 
be made from rattan. Frank bought a 
clothes basket large enough to hold all 
the clothes we ever did or ever shall possess, 
but I tell Bobby it will do to shut him up 
in when he is obstreperous. After lunch- 
eon we drove to the largest Buddhist 
Temple and saw a reclining Buddha, 
seventy feet long. It was not a pretty 
sight and to my untrained eye seemed 
woefully lacking in expression. The eyes 
may have been sapphires, but they were 
not becoming. We were deeply impressed 
by a row of pictures depicting the various 
hells that await evil-doers. Every known 
sin has its particular hell and I think if I 
were a Buddhist I would walk the straight 
and narrow. The only one I remember 
this minute is the hell where one goes who 
has sassed a mother-in-law. Swarms of 
the most uncongenial-looking bugs were 

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crawling all over their victims. My, but 
it looked like an unhealthy spot. Then 
we went to the Mount Lavinia Hotel, about 
seven miles from town, where we had 
tea and lemonade and cakes. If I had not 
seen the terrace at the Galle Face I should 
have thought this the most beautiful place 
in the world, but nothing can ever quite 
equal that. They gave a dance for us at 
the Galle Face in the evening and I have 
never seen a more gorgeous dance hall. 
The floor was like glass, and two servants 
went over it with white cloths after each 
dance. The punkahwallers kept great 
punkahs, the width of the room, going 
every minute. I thought I was dead 
tired, but I danced until twelve-thirty, 
and had to divide nearly every dance. I 
met a charming man from Canada, a 
colonel in the British Army, and in fun 
I asked him if he knew General W. W. 
Henry of Canada. If you'll believe it, 
he was his chum at King's College. I 

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had to acknowledge that personally I did 
not know General Henry, but that the 
dearest girl in the world, who happened to 
be my cousin, had visited at his home in 
Canada. Wasn't it a coincidence ? 

Yesterday we had two hours on shore 
before sailing, and I bought a lovely chair 
carved all over with elephants, and some 
gorgeous finger-bowls. Nearly every one 
bought at least one ring and many bought 
three — rubies, sapphires, and diamonds 
in English settings — but those that I 
could buy I didn't want, and vice-versa. 

After sailing, a little native boy about 
Bobby's age was discovered hidden away 
in the pantry and we have all been at work 
to-day fitting him out in good old United 
States clothes. He is a beauty with great 
big black eyes and is running away from a 
circus where he has been abused. He is 
a contortionist and can tie himself into a 
true-lover's knot as easy as winking. At 
present he is polishing silver in the galley 

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and making himself generally useful. An- 
other stowaway was discovered to-day — 
an enlisted man from the English Army — 
but I have no sympathy for him. Imagine 
deserting when stationed at Colombo! 

Before we sailed, the Hindoo jugglers 
came out to the boat again and I attempted 
to take a picture of a cobra for you, but I 
fear it will not be a success. The Hindoo 
in his anxiety to have his pet "sit up and 
look pleasant, please" prodded him from 
the rear, whereupon, just as I was about 
to press the button, he made a lunge in 
my direction. I promptly dropped the 
camera and tried in frantic haste to scale 
the ladies* cabin. He had another snake 
that was even worse than the cobra and 
he wanted me to take a picture of that, 
but there was nothing doing! It was about 
seven feet long, not as large around as a 
pencil, and very green — so green it made 
one sick to look at it, and the way it 
squirmed over the ground and spit! My 

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skin- feels loose now when I think of it. 

We have had not a drop of rain since 
we left Malta, — just perfect weather and 
glorious evenings. We dance or sit around 
on deck until midnight, and it is hard 
to leave it then. We are seeing the 
Southern Cross now, and the Dipper is 
upside down. 

Our string orchestra grows better every 
day. They give us delightful concerts 
every evening and have all the newest airs. 
They played for the dance at the Galle 
Face the other night, and the English 
officers went wild over it and made them 
play some of the pieces over four times. 

I have not answered all my letters yet 
and I really must write one or two before 
the ink is all gone. I can't help thinking 
what a boon these letters would have been 
to you last winter with coal at fifteen dol- 
lars a ton. I apologize for this last page. 
I know you can't read half of it — but 
a certain amount of mystery may add zest. 

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Give lots of love "to all inquiring 
friends" and hug yourself for me. 
Lovingly, 

Beth. 

Dearest Bess: February 20. 

This boat looks like the first of May. 
Everybody is rushing around with boxes 
and bundles; trunks are being hustled 
up from the trunk-room to be packed 
and then hustled down again; machines 
are being crated (for you must know that 
some of the industrious ones had their 
sewing machines up on deck); the fortunate 
possessors of big Aden baskets are having 
them done up; and those who purchased 
horns of the ibex and various other kinds 
of circus animals for sale at Aden, are 
wishing they hadn't, for they simply 
refuse to be packed anywhere. I have 
a picture of them landing at Manila, 
a suit-case in one hand, a pair of sprawling 

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horns madly clutched in the other! All 
this excitement because we are nearly 
at our journey's end, and I for one am 
heartily sorry, although of course we are 
all greatly interested in seeing the Philip- 
pines, where our next two years are to be 
spent. I have sent the striker for our 
trunks to pack away all the things that 
we have been able by means of hooks and 
nails and hanging-shelves and wall-pockets 
to stow in No. 13, and as I know that I 
am up against a problem that will last until 
we are in the harbor, I am going to have 
one more letter ready to mail to you at 
Manila. 

This morning there was the greatest 
consternation among the ladies when some 
of the officers came up on deck after 
inspection and announced that by order 
all the dogs which had become attached 
to the various troops during the trip were 
to be thrown overboard at noon. None 
were to be allowed to go ashore and all 

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without exception were doomed. Terriers 
of all descriptions which had mysteriously 
been annexed at nearly every port, asth- 
matic old bull-dogs, mascots from the 
Cuban campaign, dear to the hearts of 
every enlisted man down to the last raw 
recruit, and even those adorable little 
Maltese dogs were to be sacrificed. Do 
you wonder we forgot our packing and 
everything else in a gallant rally to their 
rescue ? The officers described the touch- 
ing partings that were now taking place — 
old sergeants of four enlistments shedding 
scalding tears, — until we were prepared 
to call upon the general and beg for mercy. 
When they had us stirred up to that point, 
one of the officers said, "Just wait! A. 
twelve o'clock you will see the procession, 
headed by the ranking sergeant, advance 
to the ship's rail, each with his loving pet 
pressed close to his heaving breast and at 
a signal they will throw them into the 
bounding billows, and all join in the chorus 

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' My bark is on the sea !' ' Then we knew 
the whole thing was a joke and what we 
did to them was a plenty! 

I must remember something about Singa- 
pore, but when we reached there my 
mind was still so full of the beauties of 
Colombo, that there was only the tiniest 
corner left to take in anything more. I 
should hate to be the next place on the 
map to Colombo! Compared to that, 
any place would lose out and Singapore 
was no exception, though had we seen 
it first it would probably have struck 
us difFerently. I remember that it is sit- 
uated almost exactly on the equator and 
its principal feature was the Chinaman. 
He was everywhere and as to me he is not 
particularly picturesque and we can see 
him in the laundries at home any day, 
there is no novelty about him. More than 
three-fourths of the population is Chinese. 
Sir Stanford Raffles seems to have been 
the father and fairy-godmother of Singa- 

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pore. He purchased it and did away with 
piracy on the coast, then he regulated the 
laws and established a college, with the 
result that you ride down Raffles Road, 
are shown Sir Raffles' monument, pass 
by Raffles Institute, see the monument 
erected to Lady Raffles, and finally draw 
up at Raffles Hotel. When we reached the 
hotel our rickshaw man wanted more than 
we thought he should ask. Frank argued 
in English and he argued in Chinese, but 
all to no purpose. At last the rickshaw 
man caught sight of a porter from the hotel 
and called him to come and see that he got 
his fare. After hearing both sides, the 
porter gave him just one minute to wipe 
himself off the scene and wouldn't let 
Frank pay him anything, because he had 
overcharged. He went, and at a lively 
pace, too, but he looked cross enough to 
chew tacks, and all the time we were in 
Singapore, I was in deadly terror that he 
would appear and murder us in cold blood. 

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The hotel is famous for its Sherry 
Cobbler, justly so we thought after trying 
it. Singapore is a free port and as there 
are many good European shops there, 
many of the officers and ladies took 
advantage of the wonderfully low prices 
to have linen uniforms and suits made. 
Mother ordered a skirt and inside of five 
hours it came entirely finished and very 
well made. Mother, Bobby and I took 
one of the funny carriages with Venetian 
blinds in place of windows and drove 
around the town, finally letting the driver 
leave us at High Street, which is the street 
for foreign things. I took a picture of 
Mother and Bobby in the carriage and it 
looks just like the pictures we used to make 
in school of a black cat in a dark cellar. 
Now that it has stopped raining, I suppose 
my camera will begin to do things. If you 
or Jennie were here you would probably 
know just how to manage it, but to me 
it is the most mysterious thing on earth. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

Frank's duties have interfered some- 
what with going on shore at some of the 
ports, but the second day at Singapore 
he was ashore all day and we had a jolly 
time. We shopped in the morning, buying 
among other things some great lounging 
chairs that will be fine for the Philippines! 
For luncheon we went to a new hotel 
famous for its curry. Frank is a con- 
noisseur on the subject and he is never 
happier than when putting in a spoonful 
of this, two spoonfuls of that, a shake of 
something else, "just a suggestion" from 
half a dozen other mysterious looking 
dishes, and finishing by powdering over 
the top some awful dried fish that smells 
to Heaven. At his earnest solicitation 
and with minute directions I went through 
all the preparations and almost tasted it, 
but at the last minute my courage failed 
and I ordered a salad. 

After luncheon Frank wanted to visit 
the garrison, and then we drove to the 

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Botanical Gardens which are very fine. 
A funny old baboon came near putting 
an end to Frank's sight-seeing. We were 
standing near the cage, and whether she 
disapproved of Frank's general appearance 
or of an uncomplimentary remark he made 
in regard to her we shall never know, 
but quick as a wink, she reached down, 
seized a rock from the bottom of her cage 
and hurled it, with an aim worthy of 
a Champion League pitcher, directly at 
Frank's left eye. He dodged and it just 
grazed him, but it was a close call. From 
a safe distance, I told her what I thought 
of her while she danced up and down on 
her toes and said things that I refuse to 
write. 

After dinner at the Raffles we took a 
double rickshaw and went through the 
Chinese quarter. On the way we passed 
the village of boats, a curious place. You 
could walk three or four blocks in any 
direction by stepping from one boat to 

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another. I did not try it as the place was 
permeated by a smell much less elusive 
than Ceylon's spicy odors. It was there in 
bunches! 

We visited a Buddhist Temple where 
they were setting off fire-crackers and 
where a table was covered with all sorts 
of food surrounding a large freshly roasted 
pig. It seemed to be a toss-up between 
a Fourth of July celebration and a bar- 
becue. The Chinese Theatre was in- 
teresting and the costumes were exquisite, 
heavy with gorgeous embroidery, but we 
two were the only Europeans there and 
the Chinese near us looked ugly, as if they 
were saying "Pigs" and other things in- 
side; so we didn't stay long. 

We had a dreadful time finding the 
Transport as she had moved down to the 
coal wharves where she had been coaling 
all day. 

Early next morning we sailed and since 
then every one has been busy finishing 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

letters to mail at Manila. My next letter 
will be written from the land of our 
" brown brothers " and I am hoping to find 
oodles of mail from you, waiting for 
me. The trunks are here and I must get 
busy. 

With a big hug — 

Beth. 

Mariquina Valley, 

February 26. 
Dearest Bess: 

It seems months ago that the dear old 
Transport pulled into her moorings in 
Manila bay after her nine weeks' trip. 
How I hated to say good-bye to her and 
the splendid ship's officers, who had made 
the trip delightful, not to mention the 
other two squadrons, whom we might not 
see again for two years as our regiment 
was to be divided. 

We were all more or less teary, even 
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those who had been sea-sick all the way 
over, and when eight sacks of mail came 
on board and were distributed, those who 
were left out simply gave themselves 
over to woe. I was among the number. 
I retired to No. 13, as a fitting place, and 
howled! Not a letter, not even a notice 
from the Equitable Life, which at home 
seems to arrive about twice a month, and 
not even a bill! and there were people on 
all sides of us with more mail than they 
could hold in both hands! 

I couldn't stay down there long, for 
you can imagine how excited every one 
was to learn where we were to be sent, 
as nothing was known definitely until we 
reached Manila; so back I went. Soon 
we were surrounded by launches, and 
the officers and ladies of our regiment who 
came out via San Francisco came aboard, 
and it was good to see them again, and 
there was much to talk over. We found 
that Frank's troop was to be stationed at 

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Mariquina, a place about ten or eleven 
miles from Manila, to guard the Mari- 
quina River, which is Manila's water 
supply. It is a very good station and we 
are delighted to be near town. 

Soon the big native boats called Banquos 
came alongside. The men and officers 
went aboard and started for their respective 
stations, leaving their poor wives to look 
after themselves as best they could until 
arrangements could be made for them. 
When we were taken ashore we were met 
by funny little carriages drawn by diminu- 
tive ponies, the drivers' seats fastened on 
behind. We were given the address of a 
hotel in the walled city, said to be good, 
and started off at a good brisk trot past 
the Quartermaster's Department out on 
the famous Malecon Drive, that runs along 
the waterfront and is bordered on either 
side by beautiful palm trees. We drove 
through a quaint old stone gateway, up a 
number of foreign-looking streets across 

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a moat and through another mediaeval 
gateway into the walled city, and we soon 
found ourselves drawn up in the court- 
yard of the hotel where we were to stay 
until the officers were ready for us. We 
ascended a flight of stone steps to the main 
floor of the house and found it a Spanishy 
looking place, not prepossessing. From 
the big living-room one could look across 
into the kitchen, which did not tend to 
invite an appetite. There seemed to be 
an unneccessary number of hens and pigs 
and flies and unsavory-looking servants, 
and on the whole I was far from pleased, 
but it had been recommended and was 
central, and as it would be for only a few 
days at most, we decided to stay. 

After dinner, Bobby and I hired a 
carriage and took a beautiful ride on the 
Lunetta. All Manila drives there on the 
bay after dinner, and the native band 
plays, and the ladies in their pretty summer 
frocks and the officers in their uniforms 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

make it most attractive. Many of the 
English residents and army officers have 
their own victorias and ponies, and with 
their cocheros and footmen in white liv- 
eries give the place quite an Eastern air. 

We drove until dark, and then went 
back to our hotel and early to our beds 
as we were desperately tired. We were soon 
up again. I awoke with a start from dream- 
ing that I was dead and was expiating 
my sin in having sassed my mother-in-law, 
but the dream did not approach the 
reality. Some of our party are willing to 
swear that they were pulled bodily out of 
their beds, but we did not wait to have 
force used. Such a night! It was a horror! 
I sat up on a hardwood chair — the hardest 
wood I have ever encountered — all night 
long sewed up in my mackintosh, listening 
to the mercury gaily boiling in the ther- 
mometer and inventing agonizing and long 
drawn-out deaths for the woman who 
advised us to stay at this hotel! Poor 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

Mother and Bobby were in the same sad 
plight, and certainly it was the longest 
night I have ever known. As soon as it 
was light I was out on the war-path to 
find another hotel. This time we were 
more fortunate. We had two big airy 
rooms looking right out on the open space 
in front of a big Catholic Church. Every- 
thing was delightfully clean. An Italian 
had charge of the cuisine, the table 
was excellent, and we had the benefit 
of the good music at the church. Our 
beds were immense mahogany four-post- 
ers, quiet and orderly, and in place of 
a mattress or springs, they were covered 
with woven cane like our cane-seated 
chairs at home, very comfortable, and 
delightfully cool ! We were too sleepy to 
do much but sleep all day, but we stayed 
awake in the afternoon long enough to 
visit the Escolta, which is the business 
street of the town. The European shops 
are very good and there are beautiful 

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East Indian Bazaars. The post-office is 
on this street, and also Clarke's, which 
seems to be the Huyler's of Manila. 

The Manila horse-car is killing, about 
half the size of ours, with curtains along 
the sides to keep the sun out, drawn by a 
pony about as big as a minute! The con- 
ductor has a toy horn which he blows with 
every breath to clear the track, and the 
whole thing looks like a huge joke. They 
are laying the tracks now for electric 
cars which will soon be running, but I am 
glad to have seen the old horse-cars. 

On the way back we went over the Bridge 
of Spain, which is considered very beauti- 
ful. I fear that as usual my mind was more 
on the people and odd-looking vehicles 
than on the architectural beauties of the 
bridge itself. The natives are without 
exception as "spick and span" as soap 
and water can make them. Their principal 
recreation is bathing and even the poorest 
seem to have clothes enough to be always 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

neatly dressed. The men wear loose trous- 
ers and long loose coats, the fronts some- 
times beautifully embroidered. The women 
wear low-necked, short-sleeved bodices, 
coming just to the waist, and kerchiefs 
starched as stiff as tin. Instead of skirts, 
they use a long piece of cloth, which they 
wind tight around the waist and tuck the 
end under. It appears as if there were 
nothing but the grace of God to keep them 
on, but they stay just the same! 

The next day we received word that the 
officers were ready for us. This proved 
to be a mistake in Frank's case, and he 
knew nothing about our coming until it 
was too late to stop us. Two big ambu- 
lances, drawn by government mules, were 
sent down for us and we were loaded in 
and started off on the last stage of our long 
trip. Every inch of the road was interest- 
ing and the native shacks, fighting-cocks, 
and carabao kept us busy. 

Our entrance into the Mariquina Valley 

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was nothing if not spectacular! As a rule 
views are said to burst upon the traveller 
but, as that is hackneyed, we burst upon 
the view. It happened thus! 

Just before reaching the Mariquina 
River there is a terribly steep hill road, 
which descends in many zig-zags and fancy 
curves, finally twisting itself through a 
rather narrow gateway between two stone 
posts, directly into the middle of one of the 
Posts occupied by part of our Squadron. 
Not only is the hill precipitous, but the 
narrow road is flanked on one side by a 
deep valley and on the other by cliffs. 
Hardly had we started when the brake 
broke, sending the ambulance on the heels 
of the nearest mules, who promptly started 
to gallop — whereupon the leaders naturally 
did the same. The other ambulance was 
ahead of us, also two carabao teams, one 
coming up, the other going down, and the 
road, which was narrow at best, seemed 
to shrink perceptibly. 

IJ 5 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

I gave an exhibition of vocal power, 
which will go down in history in that part 
of the island. I exhorted every one to 
"Look out!" in English, French, and 
pigeon Spanish, interspersed with Indian 
war-whoops. It proved effective and 
convincing, and as we rushed madly by 
I caught glimpses of ambulances and 
carabao teams frantically climbing to get 
out of our way. At times, we hung over 
the precipice by a hair; again we attempted 
to scale the side of the cliff, the ambulance 
rocking like a ship in a gale. At last the 
gateway appeared ahead of us. It looked 
about the size of a rat-hole and the only 
thing that remained undetermined was 
which gate-post we should be smashed 
against, when to our great surprise and 
relief we shot through it with fully a quarter 
of an inch leeway on one side. 

The garrison, hearing the terrific din, 
thought it was an attack from Ladrones, 
and we were met by the entire strength 

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of the Post! The poor natives in the vicinity, 
laboring under the same mistaken idea, 
fled for their lives and some of them didn't 
get back for two days. The road here 
was fortunately level, and that, combined 
with the strength of a dozen husky troopers, 
finally brought us to a stop, and we were 
able to take account of stock. To our 
surprise we found no bones broken but 
when I tell you that I was speechless, 
you will realize how serious the affair really 
was! Mother was as hoarse as if she 
had led the rooting at an Army and Navy 
game, and Bobby, until now too busy 
hanging on to think of anything else, 
seized the opportunity to howl! 

The men soon had us patched up and 
we were able to start on our way again. 
We had to ford the river, which was rather 
exciting, though comparatively tame after 
our recent experience, and then our road 
lay between rows of shacks and rice 
paddies to our own station. Frank and 

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his lieutenant were waiting for us and 
gave us a royal welcome, though it must 
have put them to no end of trouble to have 
us descend upon them so unexpectedly. 

The house is built of stone with a tin 
roof, and has a hardwood floor. You'll 
notice I do not say floors, for it consists of 
one large room and two little ones, not 
much larger than closets, which are occu- 
pied respectively by the Chinese cook, and 
by our muchacho and the trunks. 

Mother, the lieutenant's mother, Bobby, 
Frank and I all slept in the room that first 
night. Did I say slept? I should have 
said we occupied the room, as there were 
only two Q. M. bunks, one belonging to 
the lieutenant which he gave to his mother, 
and Frank's which he gave to mamma. 
Fortunately, we had our Singapore chairs, 
without which we should probably have 
been hung up on hooks around the room. 

We found that the doctor, who is sta- 
tioned here to take care of us all, lives in a 

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shack across the street and has a fine 
Chinese cook, and we are messing with him. 
For dinner the first night we had delicious 
bread and rolls, roast beef, salad, ice 
cream, and the nicest cake; and everything 
was daintily served — the mashed potato 
appearing in the shape of a Chinese 
pagoda. The cook makes the dearest 
little baking-powder biscuits hardly bigger 
than a thimble, and we have good butter 
from Australia and plenty of ice. I know 
I am saying a great deal about "chow," 
but we expected such privations that it 
really seems too good to be true. 

The first of next month I am to begin 
running the mess and when Sing was first 
told of the new arrangement, he declared 
to Frank and the doctor that he would 
leave at once! "Never worked for petti- 
coats! Never will!" This was most 
uncomplimentary and disconcerting for 
me, as a good cook is a rare and costly 
jewel out here. I decided to take the bull 

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by the horns and hunted up Sing in his 
little kitchen in the middle of his pots and 
pans, and had a real heart-to-heart talk 
with him. As you know, I have never 
kissed the blarney stone, but I dug up 
all the prettiest speeches I could remember 
or invent. I told him that the dream of 
my life had been to have a Chinese cook 
and that I regarded him as a direct answer 
to prayer, and much more on the same line. 
I could not tell whether I was making 
any impression on his stony heart or not, 
as he merely smiled and smiled, but when 
I stopped for lack of breath, he remarked 
with decision, "I stay," and I could have 
hugged him. 

We are on the main street of the town, 
surrounded on all sides by native shacks. 
A telephone keeps us in touch with the 
rest of our Squadron, and every morning 
we get all the cable news from Manila, 
so I anv quite up on current events. 

The Mariquina orchestra, which is 

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hired for all the dances miles around, 
practices all the new rag-times and waltzes 
back of our house every evening. You 
know they are born musicians. 

The cock-pit is only a minute's walk 
from here and we can always tell when 
a fight is going on, for it sounds like the 
Stock Exchange during a panic! Every 
native in Mariquina — and there are eight 
thousand — owns at least one fighting- 
cock, and it is the drollest thing to see 
them developing their muscles by massage, 
bathing them, and talking to them. They 
love them as if they were their own flesh 
and blood, and a little bit more. If you 
want to make yourself perfectly solid with 
a native you have only to admire his bird. 

We are eleven miles from Manila. The 
nearest Post, the pumping station, is about 
a mile and a half nearer town and the other 
about seven miles above us, so we are a 
sort of halfway house, and every one stops 
here on the way to or from town — an 

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arrangement we thoroughly enjoy. We 
have no transportation at present, but 
have been promised some very soon; 
also a larger house. The lieutenant and 
his mother live in the doctor's house 
now, but although we have divided our 
room into two parts by hanging up a big 
American flag, and are quite comfortable, 
yet we could use a few more rooms if we 
had them. 

We have joined the American Library 
in Manila and expect to enjoy it very 
much. They have all the new fiction and 
also an unusually fine collection of books 
on Japan, which is just what we want. 

The view from our house is very pretty, 
looking off across the rice fields to some 
low mountains covered with every shade 
of green. The house is surrounded by 
banana palms that poke their big leaves 
into our windows, for all the world as if 
they wanted to see what Americans are 
like. 

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This place has a great reputation as a 
health resort and many natives come here 
to be cured of all sorts of diseases. The 
people all seem very happy and jolly, 
and go about singing. They seem pleased 
if we say "good morning" to them as 
most of them can say that and take 
pleasure in rolling it off their tongues. 

They have a town crier that takes me 
back to our summers in Nantucket! 
He is hired by the month to come and stand 
in front of the house and tell all the news 
of the day. He came to the house next 
to ours the day we arrived and gave them 
a long spiel, in Tagalog of course, about 
the three American ladies and a little boy 
who had come to town. He described us 
minutely, all in a funny sing-song, the 
natives standing around with their mouths 
wide open and their eyes popping out. 
I would have given much purple and fine 
linen to have known just what he said. 

For the first time Bobby is having his 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

suits made to order. They are blue 
military suits and the tailor is a regular 
character. He can speak only ten words 
of English, but his work is fine. He 
charges seventy-five cents apiece for the 
suits. 

We visited the school this morning to 
see the closing exercises, before the ten 
weeks' vacation which begins to-morrow. 
You would have gone wild over it! Three 
hundred children all the way from five 
to twenty-one or twenty-two years of 
age sang " America " and "Home Sweet 
Home" and "Good-night, Ladies" for us, 
and several recited pieces. One small 
boy about six recited " Mary Had a Little 
Lamb " and I give you my word he did the 
whole three verses in two breaths. I 
tried not to laugh, but saved an explosion 
only by clapping until my hands ached. 
I told the teacher, a young American 
fellow, that I had a cousin at home who 
was greatly interested in education, and 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

asked him to give me a sample of the 
writing of pupils who have been in the 
school only five months. What do you 
suppose he is going to do ? They are to 
write letters telling about our visit to the 
school and about the village of Mariquina, 
and I am to have all I want to send you. 
I will enclose a copy of the rules adopted 
by the native school committee which 
are framed and hung up in the main 
hall. I shall spell the words exactly as they 
are in the original — so you needn't lay 
the mistakes to me. 

The American has six women assisting 
him, and the six members of the school 
committee each teach an hour or two 
a day without any pay. Imagine the 
members of our school committee at home, 
teaching either with or without pay! 
/ have been invited to teach. Imagine 
that if you can ! I may take the professor- 
ship in spelling, but a lack of time will 
prevent me from teaching the other courses. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

They all use the broadest A's and have 
great trouble with the th's, and it is the 
greatest fun to hear them read! We 
stayed nearly an hour, but I don't know 
where the time went. 

Yesterday I met the Presidente, the 
Teddy of Mariquina, and as he could not 
speak a word of English and I could not 
speak a word of Tagalog or Spanish, our 
conversation was slightly curtailed. By 
means of an interpreter, he told me that 
it was the greatest honor he had yet 
had, and I told him that my life had been 
a blank until I met him; and then we 
proceeded to smile at each other like 
Cheshire cats for about ten minutes. 

I am determined to learn Tagalog and 
brought a primer home from the school 
to be absorbed at odd moments. 

Sunday the Archbishop of Manila is 
coming out to spend the day, and we were 
tendered the honor of entertaining him, — 
I suppose because Frank is the command- 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

ing officer at this Post, — but we were 
forced to regret owing to lack of room. 
We are all going to hear him preach, 
however, and go to the reception which 
is to be given for him. 

I had a fine ride yesterday afternoon 
with one of the officers from the Post 
above us, down to the pumping station 
and back. Our host made us sit on his 
gorgeous porch, floored with white tiles 
and cooled by huge punkahs that go by 
water-power, while he made us refreshing 
mint-juleps, with mint raised from a 
little piece he brought in a tin can all the 
way from Virginia. Oh, it was good! 
We came away longing to meet our enemies 
that we might fall upon their necks and 
embrace them. 

Now I will let you off until next time. 
Give love to the dear people at home 
and remember that we have two mails 
a week and reckon time by them. Be 
a good girl, write often and remember 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

that I think you are a dear, and wish 
I could hug you this minute. 

Lovingly, 

Beth. 

March I. 
Dear Bess: 

The teacher has just brought me the 
letters and I will enclose the best one. 
Isn't it too delicious! 

We began Bobby's stamp-book yester- 
day and also his school. For every study 
that he gets a credit .in I give him a stamp 
from those you and Jennie sent him. 
It is going to be a perfect snap for me, and 
I am as much interested in rinding where 
they belong as he is. I had such fun with 
those dear little flags you sent for me 
Washington's birthday. I gave two away 
to some of the little brown brothers and 
they were tickled almost to death. 

Breakfast waits. 

Lovingly, Beth. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

P. S. The captain referred to in the 
letter is Frank. 

RULES 

The committee of this school agreed 
to the following: viz. — 

ist. Classes will begin at 8 o'clock to 
10 o'clock a.m. and from 2 o'clock to 
3 o'clock p.m. 

2nd. It is impolice to laugh at the 
mistakes of a scholar in trying to read 
English. 

3rd. Do not make unneccessary in or 
around noise the school. 

4th. The pupils must respect and obey 
their teachers. 

5th. The boys must not make love to the 
ladies in class; and the girls must not 
flirt with the boys. 

6th. Any one who has a personal griev- 
ance can present it to the committee of 
the school. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

Mrs. Arnold, Friday, February 26. 

Mariquina Rizal, P. I. 

We had this morning a great holiday 
for the Mrs. Arnold came to visit our 
school. So that we were very glad. 

I will tell you about the Mrs. Arnold 
she is a good man and kind. When we 
were standed he said, we may sit down 
on the bench. 

I will tell you about the great the Public 
school of Mariquina. Mariquina is a town 
near of Manila. Mariquina River, and 
Pasig river had came from the Montalvan 
mountains. Mariquina is south east of 
Manila, north east of San Mateo, south 
west of Pasig. Mariquina 12 miles far 
in Manila. San Mateo 6 miles far from 
Mariquina, and Pasig is 7 miles from 
Mariquina. 

Mariquina has a church and priest 
Mr. Vicente Estacio. The trade of the 
in Mariquina, shoe maker, and baker, 
tailor, barber, carpenter, and work of 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

the land. This country has a cuentel, 
and Pharmacy, limonedemaker, and the- 
atre, near of the church. 

This town has a school, 425 pupils 
are in the school studying English. Our 
teacher is name Mr. Potenciano Diguanco. 

I will tell you about the feast. Last 
monday we had a great holiday in honor 
of George Washington at 22th February, 
19 — . We had singing and reading. My 
teacher invited the orchestra and captain 
of this country, and there were many 
people in the school. They had some 
dresses in the school, there were many 
pictures the hanging on the wooden side. 
The photographer took us a photograph 
in the school. 

This country has a president whose 
name was Domingo Salvador. 

Santigo Victorino. 
Barrio San Ysidro. Your truly, 
Mariquina Rizal P. I. February 26th. 



I.3I 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

Mariquina, Rizal. 

March 20. 
Dearest Cousin: 

I can't tell you what a treat your letter 
was! Our first home mail came just a 
week after we arrived, and we all sat around 
goggle-eyed to drink in every word. 

I am simply in love with the Philippines. 
The heat suits me and everything is very 
foreign. Twenty times a day I say, "Oh, 
wouldn't Bess enjoy this!" The children 
are fascinating and the costumes gorgeous. 
Such combinations in colors and such 
variety in veils and hats! 

The natives seem friendly and bring 
us presents of flowers, fresh eggs and fruit. 
I fully believe in them, but the officers, 
especially those who were out here in '98, 
are inclined to take everything with a 
grain of salt. We have been to call on 
several and find them hospitality itself! 
They always offer us enormous cigars 
and cannot understand why we refuse. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

If I thought I had a chance of recovering 
after it I would take one at the next place 
we visit, just for the fun of seeing Mother's 
face. A Samoan lady, across the street 
from us, the wife of one of the health 
inspectors, has kept me supplied with 
beautiful flowers, — gorgeously tropical and 
sweet; Grace with her passion for botany 
would be crazy over them. The village 
is full of Ylang-Ylang trees, and hundreds 
of pounds of the blossoms are sent to 
Manila every year to be made into perfume. 
They are sweeter than orange blossoms. 
Several pretty birds have been presented 
to Bobby. You might think this a charm- 
ing feature of the place, but it is not, as the 
poor things are always given in pairs, 
tied on either end of a string about five 
feet long. Either the birds are deficient 
in grey matter or else they have not prac- 
ticed flying in the same direction at the 
same time, as is necessary for success 
in three-legged races, for the result is 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

a fearful flutteration, with tie-ups on hooks 
and nails and hanging-lamps. I have to 
hustle to the rescue and untangle them 
only to see the poor foolish things select a 
more inaccessible place and proceed, evi- 
dently with suicidal intent, to hang them- 
selves all over again. 

The first pair came from the woman 
next door, who has been very kind to us. 
I hated to seem ungrateful so I put up 
with this nerve-racking state of affairs 
for nearly twelve hours, but at the end of 
that time they unfortunately (?) and inex- 
plicably (?) became untied and flew out of 
the window! 

A day or two later Mary Devil delivered 
his offering in the shape of two dear little 
yellow birds on the ends of the inevitable 
string. This time I had Hillario, our 
muchacho, build a big cage and we tried to 
make them comfortable, but they soon 
died. Shortly after Mary Devil appeared 
with two more birds. This time I made 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

no bones of the matter. I told him that 
it made Americans sick to see birds tied 
on strings but that I was glad he had 
brought them and I would pay him a cent 
for every bird he could find tied up, if he 
would bring it to me and let me set it 
free. His face radiated joy and he de- 
parted at a gallop. Inside of an hour 
he was back with all the birds he could 
handle, followed by about a dozen other 
small boys all similarly loaded. I paid 
them, set the birds free and away they went. 
About an hour later I was again called 
away from my book by another delegation 
with still more birds. All the morning 
this went on, and when shortly after 
luncheon a still larger procession was seen 
approaching, each small chocolate kid 
bearing two poor struggling birds, the 
affair grew serious. I could see Frank's 
entire pay account flying up to Heaven 
in the shape of small fluttering songsters, 
and though it might be a poetical idea 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

it wouldn't go far towards paying our 
mess bill at the end of the month, and I 
was obliged to call a halt. 

This, as you may imagine, was a bitter 
disappointment to the boys who thought 
they had discovered a veritable gold mine. 
Mary Devil, who had appointed himself 
president of the Bird Trust and was 
evidently making a little on the side, was 
distinctly put out. 

Frank declares that I bought the same 
birds three times over, as they caught 
them in the meantime and brought them 
back, but how was I to tell ? We had no 
Bertillon system for identification. 

Before I let the last bunch of boys 
depart I delivered a lecture worthy of a 
charter member of the Audubon Society, 
and whether they grasped all the fine 
points or not, I have certainly seen no 
more dangling birds. 

Something is going on here all the time, — 
funerals, weddings, christenings, cock- 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

fights, — and last week about a thousand 
children were confirmed by the Arch- 
bishop. He comes from St. Louis and is 
one of the most charming men I have ever 
met. He does not speak Tagalog, so he 
had to bring monks with him to hear 
confessions, and to preach. They were 
exactly like the monks of mediaeval times 
one reads about, or sees on the stage, 
tonsured and clad in brown habits, with 
girdles made of knotted rope and sandals 
on their bare feet. 

Yesterday was St. Joseph's Day and there 
were tremendous doings at the church. 
The choir was assisted by the entire 
orchestra and there was a procession, but 
they say Easter is the grand occasion here. 

Bobby does pretty well with his lessons, 
but he finds the days long with no child 
to play with. Yesterday he came to me 
to know what he could do. I suggested 
that he should take the Spanish dictionary 
and look up the words that we should be 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

most apt to use in talking with the natives. 
By and by I looked to see what progress 
he was making and found that the only 
word he had looked up and noted down 
was the Spanish for "damn/' This may 
supply the anti-imperialists with fresh fuel, 
but it is too good to keep. 

We have just received the greatest piece 
of good news. Frank applied some time 
ago for the house that used to belong to 
the presidente and word has just come 
that we may take it. It is a perfect palace! 
I will at once take a picture of it for you. 
It is the only house in the town that boasts 
a front yard and real glass windows, 
and the rooms are all fine and large. 
The living-room is large enough for fifty 
couples to dance, the bedrooms are all 
over twenty feet square and the dining- 
room much larger. It will be a change 
after living all in one room. Do come 
and visit us! I thought it would not be 
proper to ask you before, but now there will 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

be room for you all, and I will give a 
"baile" for you as soon as you arrive. 
If you only could! 

I am trying to think what each one of 
you would like best about this place. 
Uncle Sam would be able to speak Tagalog 
like a native inside of a week. You would 
be entirely monopolized by the children 
and if Aunt Fanny needed anything more 
than the climate to cure her entirely, I 
would have Damas Santas come in and 
say "Mary's Little Lamb." I hear him 
say it at least once a day, and every time 
it is funnier. Frank insists on calling him 
"Mary Devil," and he certainly looks 
the part for it would be hard to find a 
more impish bit of humanity. Sometimes 
I reward him by saying "Twinkle, Twinkle 
Little Star," in Tagalog and he writhes 
with mirth. We are enjoying everything, 
and your letter describing the fearful cold 
at home made us feel more luxurious than 
ever, lying around in our kimonas in 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

lounging chairs. You know what cold 
bodies we are, too. It is cool enough here 
in the morning to go to market or ride 
until about nine o'clock. Then it is pretty 
hot in the sun until five, but very com- 
fortable in the house with nothing to do — 
the muchachos do all but breathe and eat 
for us, — and the evenings are glorious. 

Bobby has a good time with our mucha- 
cho, Hillario, who is just a bunch of fun 
and mischief. This morning, while we 
were dressing, the door was opened very 
cautiously and a brown fist thrust into the 
room. 

I happened to be watching the per- 
formance, and imagine my terror when 
the fist opened and out dropped an enor- 
mous brown spider on the floor. If it had 
been a lighted bomb it could not have 
caused more of a panic. We climbed on 
everything available. I selected a set of 
bamboo shelves, never intended to hold 
anything but light clothing, and just as 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

I nearly reached the top, in spite of 
awful creakings and crackings, the spider 
decided that he wanted to see something 
on the top shelf and I almost broke my 
neck getting down. All this time Mother 
and Bobby, perched on two chairs, were 
screaming. At this point Frank came to 
the rescue. He opened the door and gave 
Hillario just two minutes to find that 
spider and carry it out. In vain Hillario 
protested that it was perfectly harmless 
and that he just put it in for Bobby to see. 
It was no easy job to locate Mr. Spider. 
Poor Hillario had to remove every piece 
of clothing from the shelves and at last 
it was discovered resting comfortably in 
one of my shirt waists. After the lecture 
Frank gave him, Hillario will try no more 
jokes of that kind. 

Now I must follow the rest of my family 
to bed as we are going in the morning to 
San Mateo, the Post above us, and shall 
have to make an early start. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

Give my love to all and don't get cold 
in that freezing old New England. 
Lovingly, 

Beth. 

Mariquina Rizal, 

April 8. 
Dearest Bess: 

I was not disappointed in the last mail, 
for it brought me the long-hoped-for 
letters from you, and those dear pictures 
of the old home. They couldn't be better, 
and I can't tell you how glad we are to 
have them! I am amazed to find how 
little has happened since I wrote you last, 
and yet the time has simply flown. 

I ought to keep the most important thing 
for the last as a climax, but I can't wait 
to tell you that I am the proud possessor 
of the most bewitching, adorable, wholly 
fascinating monkey you ever saw in your 
life. I have named her Sarah as a compli- 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

ment to Mother, who seems, however, to 
be a little dubious as to the compliment. 
She is a most affectionate little thing. 
I begrudge the time away from her at 
meals and I keep her up at night until 
she can't hold her eyes open. Her skin 
is blue, not green, and her hair is a lovely 
soft brown. Whenever she sees me she 
hugs herself, makes the funniest kissing 
noise, and rolls her eyes in the most 
languishing way. She is quite irresistible, 
and it makes me grieve to think that I 
can't carry her home with me. She has 
taken a great dislike to Sing and Hillario, 
and screams when they come near her, 
but she is friendly with any white person 
and on the most intimate terms with 
Bobby. 

The Samoan lady has been away for a 
few days and when she returned she 
brought one of these little monkeys with 
her. Mother and I wanted to buy one at 
once but it is very hard to find the little 

H3 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

ones. However, I went into Manila 
day before yesterday, determined to stay 
there until I could come back with a 
monkey. Some one suggested trying 
the Zoological Gardens, as the American 
gentleman in charge could probably tell 
me where to go for one. I found him most 
courteous. He asked if I cared for any 
of his monkeys and without a moment's 
hesitation I selected Sarah from the whole 
seventy-five, and he said it would give 
him great pleasure if I would accept her 
as a present. Did I ? I rather think so! 
He tied her into the caromata and away 
we went. I was scared and so was she. 
Every time she showed her teeth or squealed 
I prepared to jump out. She climbed up 
the cochero's back and sat there gibbering 
all. the way down the main street, until 
the poor boy nearly died of mortification. 
While we were in town we visited the 
ice plant, and it was a queer sensation 
to go from the street where the thermome- 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

ter must have registered over ninety degrees 
into a place where the frost stood inches 
thick on the pipes and we had to flap our 
arms up and down to keep from being in the 
same condition. They make fifty tons a 
day. I wonder how people ever lived 
here before the plant was built. To 
have an unlimited supply of ice means 
much in the tropics. 

Our presidente is extremely partial 
to ice, but he never keeps it on hand. 
Shortly after ours has been delivered, his 
muchacho appears, " Presidente's compli- 
ments! He very bad toothache! Can 
Senora let him have little bit ice to put on 
it ?" Such a state as his teeth must be 
in, with such frequent toothaches, all the 
harder to bear as many if not all of them 
were earned by the sweat of his brow. 
Nevertheless, of course Senora can and 
does, and she inwardly wonders if he will 
drink to her very good health. 

We had great doings here last week. 

H5 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

It began on Palm Sunday and I wish you 
and Jennie had been here to take snap- 
shots. The sight was unique. Every 
man, woman, and child carried a palm, 
varying in height all the way from six to 
ten feet and decorated in every possible 
way. No two were alike. Some had 
dozens of little flags tied on, some were 
decorated with artificial flowers, and from 
some dangled all kinds of animals made 
of bits of palm leaves woven together. 
They had an impressive service in the 
churchyard and afterwards marched around 
the church with the orchestra. The bright- 
colored costumes and waving palms made 
a gorgeous picture, and like an imbecile 
I forgot my camera. 

The next big fiesta was on Thursday, 
and that night they had a tremendous 
procession through the town, that took 
nearly half an hour to pass. A life-sized 
figure of Christ, bloody and frightful, 
was carried at the head. Then came 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

priests and acolytes, followed by figures 
of about a dozen saints, gorgeous in much- 
embroidered robes and borne on floats 
on the shoulders of men in queer monkish- 
looking habits. On either side of the street 
marched the natives carrying long candles. 
These images belong to the natives. They 
take great pride in them and spend every 
cent that they can rake and scrape to- 
gether to buy them. The woman who 
sells us eggs lives in a little one-roomed 
shack with only two chairs and a table, 
and her expenses are probably not over 
two dollars a month. Yet one-half of her 
one room is devoted to a sort of shrine and 
an immense figure of the Blessed Virgin. 
She is very devout, and day and night 
she keeps candles and flowers in front of it. 
Some of these are heirlooms that have 
been handed down from generation to 
generation. Next to their love for their 
game-cocks, comes this adoration for their 
images, and a man who has two is men- 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

tioned with the same awe with which we 
speak of Rockefeller — but we must hustle 
and catch the procession. There must have 
been over a hundred little floats besides 
the big ones and they set forth every- 
thing that was even remotely connected 
with the Crucifixion. A big white rooster 
was on a float by himself, and on another 
was a ladder, followed by a shirt, a wash- 
bowl and pitcher, and a pair of gas-tongs, 
which were too much for me to under- 
stand. The orchestra played something 
in minor over and over, — I suppose it was 
a dirge. It was a weird, gruesome proces- 
sion. 

Friday night an even larger procession 
had all the same features except that the 
figure of Christ was changed for one much 
larger, laid out on a regular bier with 
candles around it, exactly as they arrange 
their dead here, not even forgetting the 
cloth bound around the head to keep the 
mouth shut. They marched around the 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

town, and then went to the church. With 
great pomp and ceremony, the bier was 
carried in and placed in front of the altar, 
with all the saints placed around it on 
their respective floats. Did I say all ? 
No, there was one exception. St. John 
the Baptist was not allowed to stay. 
He came as far as the church door, and 
waited there until every other saint had 
gone inside. Then his guardians rushed 
him off up a back street, his halo flopping 
and his peroxide locks floating out on the 
breeze! The service lasted about all 
night and the church was packed to the 
doors. 

On Sunday morning was the grand 
climax. The procession started at day- 
break and every one in Mariquina who 
could walk was in it, carrying a candle 
over two feet long. The figure of Christ 
had shrunk to about half its original 
size and was standing in the middle of 
a bed of tropical flowers. The natives 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

wore their very gladdest silks and brocades 
and thin veils gorgeously embroidered 
and painted. The high mass was a lively 
function, bringing in two-steps and waltzes 
and schottisches. 

Monday was the opening night at the 
Mariquina Opera House. Frank and I 
went and found it really very good. We 
were invited to sit in the presidente's 
private box, but we thought we could 
have more fun by ourselves, and declined. 
The singing was fine and the acting 
seemed pretty good, though we couldn't 
understand a word, as it was all in Tagalog. 
That reminds me that I am not making 
the strides in the language I could wish. 
To be sure I can say "Twinkle, Twinkle 
Little Star," "Mary Had a Little Lamb," 
"It is a cat," and "It is a cow," but I 
am pained to find them of no earthly 
use to me in marketing. I do not crave 
the twinkling star and there is not a cat 
in town, nor any lamb or cow nearer than 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

Manila. When I write a primer for the 
Philippines, instead of filling it full of 
sentences about cats and cows and other 
things about as common as the ibex and 
the dodo-bird, I shall say, "I see an 
egg !" " Is it a fresh egg ?" " I see a hen, " 
"Is it a young and tender chicken?" and 
my name will be blessed by the would- 
be marketers. 

The funerals here are weird. The priest 
comes first with his acolytes and thurifers 
and crucifers, then the orchestra follows, 
playing blood-curdling music, then the 
corpse, carried on the shoulders of eight 
men, in an ornate casket, generally covered 
with bright pink or blue cloth, with chande- 
liers on the sides and loads of artificial 
flowers. Attached to it are long streamers 
of ribbon that are held by the chief mourn- 
ers, and the friends bring up the rear, 
dressed in black and wearing black veils. 
They appear utterly indifferent while they 
are marching through the street on their 

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way to the church, and from there to the 
cemetery, but once inside the cemetery 
the racket they make is bedlam let loose. 
They keep up the noise, more like barking 
than crying, all the time they are there. 
The cemetery is very small and very old, 
and as there are ten thousand people in 
Mariquina, it is crowded. No one pays 
for a grave for more than a year and 
many pay for not as long a time. They 
dig the grave after the funeral procession 
arrives and every shovelful of dirt brings 
up a skull, or a leg bone, or a hand. 
Before they put the casket into the ground, 
they lift up the corpse, wrap it in a straw 
mat and then put it back, nail on the lid, 
shovel back the skulls and bones and dirt, 
and stamp it down. It made my flesh 
fairly creep. You may think I haven't 
flesh enough to creep, but I have. I must 
tell you about the funeral that passed 
the house last week. A tall Philippine 
woman dressed in black, with a long black 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

veil, carried on her head a little pink 
coffin, trimmed with ribbons and flowers. 
She had her hands on her hips, smoked 
a long black cigar and moved along at 
a good swinging stride, followed by about 
a dozen children, adorned with little 
black veils on their diminutive heads. 
That was all. She was too poor to have 
priest or music, or even to hire any one 
to carry the casket; and probably she had 
to dig the grave herself. I wanted to 
take a snapshot but it seemed too heartless. 

We are going to have a "baile" as soon 
as we are settled. We expect to move into 
the big house next week and it will seem 
good to hear a piano again. We shall 
hire the orchestra to play their Easter 
music. 

I have been invited to go to San Fer- 
nando to visit the headquarters of our 
regiment. It is a beautiful place on the 
west coast of Luzon, and the bathing is 
fine. Some of my best friends are stationed 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

there. I would rather wait and go later 
when the novelty of this place has worn 
off. 

We are invited to a big military wedding 
in Manila next week. The bride belongs 
to our regiment and is most popular. 
People are coming from all the different 
Posts and it will be a regular reunion. 

Isn't it a shame that we have to pay 
duty on things sent to the States ? I have 
some little souvenirs for you, but I don't 
like to send them, fearing that they will 
charge you an absurd duty on them. 

I judge from the tone of your last letter 
that you refer to Bobby's school in a 
sarcastic way. You wouldn't dare if 
there were anything smaller than the 
Pacific between us. I want you to know 
that we have school daily, from nine to 
eleven and from two to three, and although 
he hasn't finished all the books yet, he is 
getting a smattering of every one. 

Every day I am grateful to Mrs. P- 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

for selecting so many good books for me. 
We read a little in "Little Journeys to 
Hawaii and the Philippines" every day 
and it is most enjoyable. The "Talks 
on Common Things" is interesting, and 
we are studying whatever grows near us, 
like rice, cotton, cocoa and coffee. My 
own head is fairly bursting with knowledge, 
to say nothing of his. 

Give Jennie a hug and thank her for 
the pictures. Lots of love to Aunt Fanny 
and the other good people under your 
roof, and write, write, write ! 

Mother sends love and says she will 
write soon. She wants you to come here 
in time to go back with her for next 
Christmas. 

Now, good-bye, dear girl. A mail is in 
to-day, Frank has gone to Manila, and I 
am counting the hours until I shall have 
a letter from you. 

Lovingly, 

Beth. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

Friday Evening, 
May 6. 
Dearest Girl: 

A mail goes to-morrow and I must send 
a letter to you by it, even if only a scribble. 

Your letter written March 13 came 
April 26. It began, " Don't I wish I could 
look in on you to-night," and I certainly 
never wished that more in my life, for we 
were having our first "baile" in the new 
house. It was the greatest fun and how 
you would have enjoyed it! We had the 
native orchestra of fifteen pieces, which 
plays entirely by ear. The men are chuck 
full of music. 

It was all very impromptu, given to 
celebrate the birthday of one of the officers 
from the Post above. We supposed the 
orchestra would not know our music, 
so imagine my joy when I told them to open 
the ball with a two-step, to have them 
start off with "The Mosquito Parade," 
and bow they played it! It would have 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

made a dead man dance ! Eight officers and 
two or three ladies danced and about 
as many more came to look on; and we 
invited in about a dozen natives so that 
we could see the "Rigadon" danced and 
I haven't recovered my breath yet! The 
surprise was a grand success. Mr. Turner 
didn't know that we knew it was his 
birthday. He thought nothing of it when 
we asked him with other officers and ladies 
to come down and spend the evening, 
as he is usually here two or three times a 
week. When he arrived we were all out 
in the yard to meet him. The minute 
he stepped out of his carriage, he was 
caught by three officers and held while 
we all showered congratulations upon him. 
The house was decorated with flags 
and lights, and we had invited Captain 
Overton and the superintendent and his 
wife from the Post below. We left the 
inviting of the natives to the doctor of 
Mariquina, as he seems to be the Harry 

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Lehr of the place, and he promised to 
come about eight-thirty with a carefully 
selected delegation of Mariquina's 400 
to do the "Rigadon." We took Mr. 
Turner upstairs and while he was admir- 
ing the decorations and receiving all 
manner of good wishes, without any warn- 
ing, the orchestra, which had been smug- 
gled into the hall below, started up a 
simply rollicking tune — the one they play 
on the way home from funerals. We seized 
Mr. Turner and whisked him down stairs, 
and there was the orchestra lined up on 
either side of the big hall. When we 
appeared, as if at a signal, the natives 
(I didn't even know they had arrived) 
marched down the centre and gave us 
the "glad hand"! They were dressed 
regardless of cost. Some of the girls were 
very pretty and they danced beautifully. 
Mr. Turner's mother, who was in the 
surprise with us, sent down a dandy big 
birthday cake and pineapple sherbet, and 

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Sing made chocolate ice cream and candy 
and salted peanuts, and we had twenty- 
eight big candles on the table. We had 
our spread after the natives had gone, 
but Frank laid in a supply of ginger beer 
and bottled lemonade, of which they are 
very fond, for their refreshment during 
the evening, and what do you think! 
He went out in the dining-room, where the 
muchachos were waiting on the thirsty 
ones, and arrived just in time to see Hillario 
emptying the last of a bottle of Scotch 
whiskey into a glass for a sweet young thing 
of about sixteen summers and she took 
it straight, though it brought the tears 
to her eyes. There were tears in Hillario's 
eyes when Frank finished with him after 
discovering that he had already served 
three bottles of his best "Black and White" 
to the happy natives. I only wonder we 
didn't have a rough-house. 

I never had more fun in my life. It 
was such a success that we are going to 

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celebrate mother's birthday in the same 
way. I wish you could have seen me 
dancing the "Rigadon" with the doctor, 
not the native but our own dignified 
member of the United States Medical 
Corps. Neither of us knew anything 
about it, but the natives needed one more 
couple to make out the set and they prom- 
ised to see us through it, so we made 
the eighth couple. The result was all 
you could have expected. I found my- 
self balancing with three men at once and 
going through grand right and left all by 
myself and all sorts of stunts. The rest 
of our crowd were nearly prostrated 
watching us. 

I must tell you about the three old 
"goo-goo ladies" that came — sans invi- 
tation — like the bad fairy in Sleeping 
Beauty. I think they may have come as 
chaperons, not considering me sufficient. 
Anyway they were gray-headed and bare- 
footed and how they did smoke, all same 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

three factory chimneys! Frank declares 
that between them they smoked an entire 
box of his best cigars. They sat first on 
one foot, then on the other, like three old 
cranes, and one of them had the coyest 
way of playing with her toes. The young 
people were decorous, and were greatly 
shocked at the way the officers would 
rush out and seize us in the middle of a 
dance and rush off with us, but so few 
ladies danced that we had to divide our 
dances up in small bits. 

I began to run the mess this month, 
and I love it. Sing is adorable. He tries 
hard to please and gives us all sorts of 
good things. By the way, he is engaged 
to the young woman from whom I have 
been buying chickens. It struck me that 
chicken appeared on the menu at frequent 
intervals and that every time she came she 
and Sing had a long palaver in the kitchen, 
— also that Sing would stand up for those 
same hens as if he had been engaged as 

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their counsel, in spite of the fact that many 
of them were old enough to have known 
better. I believe I must have been very 
dense, for a woman, when added to these 
facts I was commissioned by Sing to pur- 
chase one bottle of "all same nice smell 
like Senora's" and a purple necktie. 
Yet I was quite surprised when he told 
me in the most shamefaced way, " I engaged 
to 'hen woman,' pretty pronto get mallied!" 
and, if you please, I have been buying his 
trousseau for him in Manila! Yes indeedy, 
and it is gorgeous in the extreme! He is a 
good-looking Chink and as neat as wax, 
and I consider that the "hen woman" has 
drawn a prize. We are paying him a 
dollar a day, which he turns over to her, 
keeping out only enough to purchase his 
wedding outfit. 

The first time he asked me to order 
"five pounds lice/' I experienced some- 
thing of a shock, and I had another 
when, hearing frightful squawkings em- 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

anating from his domain, I discovered 
the three chickens, intended for our dinner, 
hanging by their feet to a piece of clothes- 
line. I called him to come and take the 
wretched, flapping, cackling things down 
at once, which he did very sulkily. Then 
I inquired, "Why on the clothes-line ?" 
He was distinctly put out and replied 
ungraciously, "Make good taste! Always 
hang for two, three hours! No hang, no 
good!" 

I don't know what the idea is, though 
I find it is customary among the Chinese 
cooks. I doubt if I should have dared 
to be so emphatic in my orders that he 
was never to do such a thing again, had I 
realized what a temper he has. 

The very next day, Hillario came run- 
ning to me all out of breath and as white 
as a sheet, exclaiming, "Sing got a mad 
on Estaben! He put him to sleep!" 
I ran out to the kitchen and was horrified 
to see the doctor's muchacho lying un- 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

conscious on the floor, with a horrid cut 
in his head. 

I sent Hillario for the doctor, who soon 
arrived. Before long Estaben was able 
to sit up while he put four stitches in his 
poor head, and after a little, though 
pretty wobbly on his legs, he was able 
with the doctor's help to crawl down to his 
room. 

I tried to impress upon Sing what a 
dreadful thing he had done and wound up 
by saying, "Why, you might have killed 
him!" His only regret seemed to be 
that he hadn't. 

We were not surprised the next day 
when Estaben, by some mysterious means, 
had word from his father that he was 
needed at home, and we have never seen 
him since. 

Maybe the muchachos are not walking 
the chalk-line! Sing has but to express 
a wish and they fall over themselves to do 
his bidding, lest he "get a mad" on them 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

and they share Estaben's fate. They are 
as a whole very willing servants, but they 
entertain a perfect horror of infringing on 
each other's work. 

When I first took the helm, I called 
all three boys to me, and told them that 
every morning before breakfast, they were 
to polish the floor in the living-room, 
and dust all the tables and chairs. I 
found myself in hot water immediately! 
The work wasn't half done and each boy 
declared that he did more than his share. 
When I called Jose's attention to a dusty 
chair, he would look grieved and declare 
that he did all the other chairs, but he 
thought the boys might do a little work! 
And when I showed Lucillio a part of the 
floor, perfectly destitute of polish, he turned 
his great reproachful eyes on me and 
said, "Senora! All the rest of the floor 
did I polish! That bit alone did I leave 
for Hillario!" Whereupon, Hillario would 
go up in the air, and they would hold 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

converse together in their native tongue, 
with sufficient exercise of the arms, if 
properly applied, to have polished every 
floor in the house. Finally, I hit upon the 
plan of counting the exact number of 
boards in the floor, and portioning it out, 
the same number to each one, and each 
boy was to dust the chairs and tables 
that were found on his particular third! 
It worked like a charm! Each one vied 
with the others to have his part the shiniest 
and his chairs the cleanest. 

To be sure, I arose one morning at an 
early hour, disturbed by a slight noise 
in the living-room, and fearing that 
Sally was untied, I opened the door very 
quietly and discovered Lucillio, carefully 
moving the chairs about. 

At first, I couldn't make out what he 
was doing, until it suddenly dawned on 
me that he was moving the chairs from 
his section to those of the other two boys, 
so as to avoid dusting them. I said not a 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

word, but waited until I heard him go 
down stairs and his door close behind 
him, when I cautiously stole out and put 
them all back, even giving him one or two 
chairs extra. 

I determined to stay awake until it 
was time for the muchachos to come 
up and do their work, just to have the fun 
of seeing LucilhVs face, but to my disgust 
I fell asleep and never knew anything 
until they had quite finished, but all day 
long, I caught him secretly regarding each 
of the other boys with cruel suspicion. 

We had a fright to-night. Frank gave 
Bobby a little sabre and belt for Christmas, 
just like those he wears himself, and you 
may imagine that Bobby was a proud kid. 
Having no one to play with here, he 
appointed himself our sentinel, and every 
night after "Retreat," when our sentry 
comes over and closes the big iron gates, 
Bobby has stationed himself on the inside 
and marched up and down, his sabre 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

very much in evidence, glaring at any 
small brown brother who has dared 
even to look through. He presented a very 
war-like appearance in his little uniform 
and helmet and was regarded with awe 
by the small boy of Mariquina. To- 
night a boy came along, evidently a stranger, 
who, not understanding the import of all 
this military effect, calmly proceeded to 
push open the gate and walk in. Quick 
as a flash, Bobby was after him, yelling 
like a cowboy about to shoot up a town, 
and the small brown brother stood not 
upon the order of his going, but fled. Out 
they tore through the gate, Bobby brand- 
ishing his sabre wildly, dire vengeance 
in every step. To our horror, he was not 
content with chasing him away from the 
house, but followed him down a long lane 
to his own shack and inside and he would 
undoubtedly have proceeded to "puncture 
his tire," had not the poor young one's 
father been there and hurried to his pro- 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

tection. That Bobby was not instantly 
boloed, we shall always regard as little 
less than a miracle, but the next we saw 
of him he was being led home, the irate 
parent holding him firmly by the hand, 
his poor little sabre dragging disconsolately 
in the dust, and utter dejection in every 
line. The hombre handed him over to 
Frank, who promptly administered a sound 
spanking which acted as balm on the man's 
harassed feelings. After many protesta- 
tions of mutual regard he departed, smok- 
ing one of Frank's best Manilas, but poor 
Bobby is shut up in the Colombo clothes 
basket (that was one wise purchase we 
made, for there are no closets in these 
houses) to think in solitude upon the 
enormity of his crime. I have to go and 
look in at him every five minutes to see 
if he is really all in one piece! Frank 
says we may be devoutly thankful that 
it was not the man's fighting-cock he was 
chasing, for then it would have been all 

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up with Bobby, but as it was only his 
first-born, his life was spared. 

They have all been having a great laugh 
at me. I have been trying to train the 
muchachos to announce dinner instead 
of whistling for us, as has been their 
custom, and I told them that they were to 
come to the door of the big living-room 
where we all assemble and say, "Dinner 
is served." They didn't take kindly to 
the idea, but I was firm. Sunday night 
we were all sitting there waiting and I 
was thinking what a surprise it would be 
to every one to hear dinner formally 
announced, when I saw Jose come to the 
door, screw his face up into all manner of 
knots, and mutter something utterly in- 
audible. I went out and asked him if 
he said what I told him and he assured 
me that he did. He looked worn to a 
frazzle by his effort and I could not get 
his courage up to the point of trying it 
again. Neither of the other boys could be 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

persuaded, so we went to dinner without 
the announcement. 

Monday night the dinner was announced 
by loud beating on a tin pan with an iron 
spoon. Perfectly disgusted, I went out 
and inquired, "Why?" 

Sing said, "Boys no can say what 
senora say — no can member." 

"I will not have dinner announced in 
that way," I said. "It is to be announced 
at the drawing-room, reception-room, 
music-room door." 

Tuesday night, we all sat there, more 
or less breathlessly awaiting the announce- 
ment. We could occasionally catch frag- 
ments of the talk of the muchachos, 
trying to urge each other on, and of Sing, 
alternately encouraging and threatening 
all three by turns. It began to grow 
dark, and still no summons. Suddenly 
from the dusk of the doorway it smote 
upon our ears in Sing's stentorian tones, 
"Chow now!" You should have heard 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

the others laugh! I shall never hear the 
end of it! 

I took some pictures of the house to-day 
which I am sending you together with 
pictures of Manila. They are very good 
and give a splendid idea of the place. 
Mother is feeling much better and we 
enjoy her music above everything. She 
plays every night after dinner, and we 
sit around and sing. All the muchachos 
are whistling the airs from "The Cap of 
Fortune" and "The Sultan of Sulu." 

The weeks simply fly. Then we have 
the Inter-island trip ahead of us and the 
lovely trip home. 

Well, this won't do for me. We have to 
start for market at seven in the morning, 
which means breakfast at 6.30, and I 
must put in forty winks. Do write when- 
ever you can. I know you are busy, and 
you have been fine about writing, but 
please let the good work go on. My love to 
all and a big hug for you. Beth. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

P. S. I thought you would like to know 
how pleased I am with myself for laying 
in such a supply of large white shoes. 
Talk about coals to Newcastle! Why, 
my dear, they make and send out nearly 
two thousand pairs of shoes every week 
from this little burg. I can get all I want 
made to order for seventy-five cents a 
pair, and they will copy any shoe you have 
exactly. The story that one's feet swell 
in the Philippines is a myth. My feet 
continue to demand the same size of shoes 
that I have worn for the past few years, 
and the scows I bought in New York are 
so large that I don't know whether I'm 
coming or going. 



Mariquina Rizal, 

May 15. 
Dearest Cousin: 

I find that I can go to Manila to-morrow 
and catch the next mail, and I want to 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

send you some of the pictures that the 
doctor took of the house. It doesn't 
give you much of an idea of the size, but 
it is large, especially when compared with 
the little shacks around it. It is over 
sixty feet across the front and over eighty 
feet on the sides. I may try to draw a 
plan of it for you. 

We had company nearly every day last 
week, sometimes two or three persons at a 
time, and you know how I love company. 

You will be sorry to learn that the little 
romance in our kitchen has come to an 
untimely end. It looked for a time as 
if we should all follow the romance. 
Sing came home the other night looking 
absolutely crazed. He could hardly talk, 
he was in such a nervous state, and he told 
us that his girl, the "hen lady," had eloped 
with an ex-soldier who had been stationed 
in Mariquina a year ago. They had gone 
to Manila. Sing said, "Give me horse, 
give me gon, I go to Manila. I kill 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

him!" It was nearly midnight, so Frank 
persuaded him to wait until morning 
and he would let him take a horse, but not 
a gun. He tried to reason with him that 
it was useless to follow them, but follow 
Sing would. He walked the floor all 
night long, crying and moaning, and by 
daybreak he was up and away. Then 
trouble began to brew in the Presidentia. 
None of the boys knew how to cook and 
for a time starvation stared us in the face, 
for I haven't mastered the mysteries of 
cooking with condensed milk and canned 
butter. We lived on canned stuff until the 
very thought of it was too much. The 
boys returned from the Commissary every 
morning loaded with cans enough to fill 
a Harlem goat and when I realized what 
was before us, it seemed unbearable. 

It looked as if we should be reduced to 
the emergency ration, but just as we were 
beginning to think of a square meal as a 
matter of history, Sing came back jaded 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

and worn but still able to cook. He had 
found no trace of the elopers and probably, 
thanks to the $140 which he had given 
the girl, they had left for parts unknown. 
The day after he returned I was stretched 
out on a long chair reading when through 
the window came a queer smell, not elu- 
sive like the Ceylon odors. At last my 
curiosity prevailed and I looked out of the 
window. Sing and the three muchachos 
were out in the garden, deeply interested 
in a small bonfire which smelled to heaven. 

"What are you doing?" I exclaimed, 
to which Hillario promptly replied, 

"Sing, he burn his pig-tail, he say no 
Filipino girl like him with tail." Sure 
enough, poor Sing's cue was chopped off 
close to his head, and the fire was slowly 
lapping up the last squirming black bit. 

I was vexed enough to shake him, for 
his queue, neatly braided with silk, and 
the end tucked into his vest pocket, 
was certainly soul satisfying. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

I hope you will like Sarah's picture. 
It shows the roof of our henhouse and the 
stone wall that surrounds our garden, 
to say nothing of Sarah's expression, which 
I assure you is perfect. It was taken on 
the window-sill in Mother's room, and 
while I sat there she insisted on taking a 
picture of us both. The one on the right 
is the monkey. 

The picture marked number four is 
the opera house! Don't howl, for it 
has an imposing inside, with large, com- 
modious boxes, quite decent scenery, a 
balcony and seats for hundreds of people. 
This picture also shows the lovely arch that 
was put over the church gate, when 
Bishop Hardy came for confirmation. 

Number five was taken from the same 
window, but the camera was toward the 
church, and isn't it dear ? We are proud 
of it. Hardly a week passes without 
something going on over there, and that 
reminds me! — This morning there was a 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

large and very imposing funeral, as one 
of Mariquina's most famous citizens was 
buried. If you don't think that the fact 
of being the owner of the champion 
fighting-cock of this town makes for 
fame, you should have seen the size of 
that funeral. Every one in Mariquina 
turned out to do honor to the once proud 
possessor of the bird, and he received 
more homage than John L. or Fitzsimmons 
can ever expect. 

We were all stationed at the windows 
watching the proceedings and when the 
procession had nearly passed I noticed 
some of the natives pointing to the very 
tail end, and there was Bobby bringing 
up the rear with Sarah hitched to a string! 
They were entirely oblivious of every- 
thing in their attempt to keep up with 
the men in front, and of course I couldn't 
scream to them; but I rushed for Hillario 
and told him to hurry and catch them 
before they were inside the church. He 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

just did it and that was all. As they 
reached the church steps I heard Sarah 
give one of her terrific screeches, saw 
Hillario dart through the crowd and seize 
them, and dodge back again. Pretty 
soon they reappeared near the church 
gate, Sarah perched on Bobby's shoulder, 
showing her teeth and saying things to 
Hillario that, as I have tried to explain 
to her, are never said in polite society. 

The big tree that looked dead is just 
blossoming now, and it is perfectly beauti- 
ful. The blossoms come first, — great clus- 
ters of scarlet flowers like huge bouquets, — 
and nothing could be lovelier against the 
grey of the old church and the blue sky. 
The little square building on the side is 
the place where the church bells are hung, 
and we often have reason to wish that the 
boys who ring them were hung there as 
well. I must try to give you a little 
rough plan of the house, and then turn in. 
******* My, dear! I can't make 
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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

head nor tail of this plan myself, so I know 
you can't. The lower hall is all tiled, 
and you have to go up three stairs to each 
of the rooms. The two stairways, that 
go up to the second floor, meet on a big 
landing half-way up and there is a sort 
of balcony overlooking a covered drive- 
way, where teams can pass right through 
the house from one side to the other. 
The upstairs is not quite so confusing 
to draw, although the stairs are still a 
thorn in the flesh. Don't mind! Take 
my word for it that we get up there some- 
how, and without an elevator, too. The 
window-sills are all broad enough for 
seats, and most of the windows are ten 
feet wide. You can see the Ylang-Ylang 
tree looking into our front window. The 
fence in the picture looks as if it were 
glued to the house, but such is not the 
case. It is really twenty odd feet away 
and there is a pretty garden with flower- 
beds all outlined with beer bottles. These, 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

I would have you know, were laid out be- 
fore we arrived. 

I wonder if I have given you the slightest 
idea of it. Perhaps you would know more 
if I didn't send the plans. 

Ever since we moved in here, the emp- 
tiness of the palatial henhouse in our 
yard has been on Frank's nerves, and two 
weeks ago he purchased twenty hens to give 
it an occupied look, and also to supply 
us from time to time with dinners. I 
was thankful, for my first errand every 
Saturday morning has been to the most 
evil-smelling quarter of a particularly vile- 
smelling market, where I have bought 
six live hens and had to bring them home 
in the wagon with me, their twelve yellow 
legs all tied together in a miserable bunch, 
all same beets. Most of my trip home from 
town has been spent with my head under 
the seat, vainly endeavoring to make the 
poor things a little less uncomfortable. 

We all rejoiced greatly in our new 

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possessions which, with the five carabao, 
gave our yard quite a rural aspect — we 
rejoiced until I ordered three cooked for 
dinner, and then our rejoicings turned 
to songs of woe. Tough! Why, my dear, 
we couldn't make a scratch on them! 
We think that the hombre who negotiated 
for them, had an idea that Frank was a 
sport and wanted fighting-stock. In the 
arena, they would undoubtedly have proved 
a great success, but they were never in- 
tended to come under the head of edi- 
bles! In vain did Sing try them broiled, 
fried, roasted and boiled! In each style 
they seemed tougher than in the last! 

For a day or two after they came they 
waited for us to continue the artificial 
exercise and massage to which they were 
accustomed, but when they realized that 
they were not to receive anything of the 
sort at our hands, they conscientiously 
took it upon themselves. I wish you 
could have seen them walk, for all the 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

world exactly like the athletic girl one al- 
ways meets aboard ship. Up and down 
the yard they pranced, ignoring the fat, 
juicy worms and luscious grasshoppers 
in their all-absorbing attempts to harden 
their muscles. Like Norval, they "had 
heard of battles, and longed to follow to 

the" cock-pit! They seemed to 

feel sure that the future held something 
in store for them more glorious than a 
modest participation in one of Sing's 
11 a la Viennes." 

As fighters, they were a promising lot, — 
at least, so the muchachos assured us, — 
and they came from the very best blue- 
ribboned stock in the islands. Two of 
them walked to San Tolan (a distance 
of six miles) and forgot to return. This 
happens to be Lucillio's native burg, but 
I have tried to believe that he did not 
bring his influence to bear to keep them 
away from home. 

When there were only three left, Sing 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

said it was no use to cook them if they were 
allowed to keep in training, so he shut them 
up in the henhouse with everything that 
could possibly tempt the appetite of a 
hen, determined, if possible, to fatten 
them. 

For forty-eight hours they remained with 
their heads stuck out between the slats, 
gazing with longing eyes at the well-worn 
path where they were wont to exercise 
and refusing to be tempted even by rice- 
pudding! At the end of that time, the 
smallest, a white one, discovered a place 
that she could squeeze through, and, my 
dear girl, what do you suppose she did! 
With a clear eye and a steady step she 
walked deliberately to the well, which is 
protected only by a narrow stone coping, 
three inches high, and threw herself in! 
There was no chance for u temporary 
insanity" or "sleep walking"! It was a 
plain case of deliberate and premeditated 
suicide! She probably discovered that 

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her biceps were becoming flabby, and life 
held out no further charm. 

The entire Arnold family arose as one 
man and rallie.d to her assistance. For 
one-half hour in the broiling sun, we lay 
on the ground and tried with not entirely 
unselfish motives to rescue her from our 
drinking water. At last, Frank had the 
felicity of catching her in the bucket and 
pulling her safely to the top. 

I had despatched the muchachos in 
various directions for brandy and bath 
towels, and after a brisk rubbing, she 
languidly opened one eye. I administered 
brandy by means of an eye dropper, 
although it took some time and she seemed 
quite averse to it, and then, having done 
all that I could remember as coming 
under first aid to the drowned, we placed 
her on the grass in a shady spot, while 
we betook ourselves, utterly exhausted, 
to the house for fans and cooling drinks. 

We left Madam Hen surrounded by a 

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circle of curious natives, who had been 
deeply interested in the whole proceeding, 
all sitting around on their haunches and 
watching as if the fate of the nation hung 
in the balance! 

I was just dozing ofF when I heard 
Hillario call, "Oh, Senora! Come quick!" 
I rushed to the window and there in the 
middle of the circle was the would-be 
suicide, pirouetting around on the back 
of her neck, like a pin- wheel gone wrong! 
Around and around she went, while the 
natives regarded her in speechless amaze- 
ment! Finally, with a last tremendous 
flop and a kick, she straightened herself 
out, closed her eyes, and relinquished all 
interest in the cock-pit! 

The doctor who had arrived in the 
meantime pronounced her death due to 
delirium tremens, but I refuse to believe it. 

When Sing went out to get the other 
two hens, preparatory to dressing them for 
dinner, he was intending to add the white 

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hen to the lot, but I drew the line at suicides, 
and told him to have the boys bury her. 
However, when the fricassee appeared 
at dinner, a few hours later, it was flanked 
by six drumsticks! I couldn't eat it, but 
Frank and the doctor said it was great 
and strongly flavored of brandy! 

I expect a letter from you this week. 
Heaps of love. 

Beth. 

3t 

Mariquina, 

June I. 
My clearest Cousin: 

I have an inspiration! It all happened 
because Bobby had his thumb shut in the 
door (I feel that we may yet live to bless 
that thumb) and began to howl at the top 
of his lungs. The doctor, fortunately 
for us, was in the house at the time, and 
rushed up to see what was the matter. 
While he was busy with liniment and 

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antiseptic gauze, I held Bobby and tried 
to keep him quiet by diverting his mind 
to the poor little bats in the roof, that he 
was probably scaring into fits, and the poor 
old carabaos out in our yard, that he was 
waking up in the middle of their afternoon 
naps, and other trifles of a like absorbing 
nature. Then the inspiration suddenly 
came to me! How heavenly to have a 
doctor in the family! Some one to do up 
Bobby's sore toes and extract his slivers, 
besides, Frank hasn't been a bit well, 
and it would be such a comfort to have 
some one who would take not merely a 
professional but a cousinly interest in his 
case! Why didn't I think of the Medical 
Corps for you before ? 

He is very good looking and dignified, 
but shy! He wouldn't dare even to look 
at a girl, but I am willing to do the love- 
making for you both, as there is much at 
stake. He seems to be alone in the world 
except for an old lady to whom he writes 

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every week. Her name is Miss Annabel 
Doane Standish and she lives on Beacon 
Hill. I know because I mail a letter to 
her every Saturday when I go to market, 
and I hardly ever sort out the mail here, 
without finding one at least, in her old- 
fashioned, lady-like hand for him. 

I think she is his aunt, probably on his 
mother's side, and I can see her dear old 
home, up near the State House, with the 
violet glass in the windows and three or 
four steps leading up to the door with 
its quaint brass knocker, and inside the 
loveliest old furniture! Highboys, Chip- 
pendale tables, and corner cupboards, full 
of beautiful old china, and — oh, Bess! — 
she will adore you and when we are all 
at home on visits, she will invite us to come 
and spend the night with her after the 
theatre! Won't it be great! 

He seems fond of her and watches 
eagerly for her letters. At first, I was 
afraid that he had a sordid motive because 

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she is rich, but now that I know him better 
I can see it is probably because she is his 
only living relative! 

Don't go and interest yourself in any 
one else, for I have set my heart on seeing 
you Mrs. Harold Rogers of the United 
States Medical Corps. He is going East 
as soon as his time is out here and I shall 
have him call on you. You can't fail to 
like him. Bobby worships the ground 
he walks on and I suspect that he purposely 
bumps himself and acquires slivers, simply 
to make an excuse to be in his society! 

How glad I am that O'Reilly was sea- 
sick and that the other officer proved not 
to be unattached. How wonderful are the 
rulings of Providence ! 

I must fly! I am supposed to be over- 
looking the filtering of our drinking water, 
and even at this very moment, a fuzzy, 
goggle-eyed germ may be evading Sing's 
watchful eye, with deadly designs upon the 
Presidentia, but I needed to write at once. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

With love and best wishes from your 
Germicidal Cousin Beth. 



Mariquina Rizal, 

June 25. 
Dearest Cousin: 

My only excuse for not having written 
more during the past month is that my 
time has been taken up with Frank, and 
as Mother has been writing to Aunt Fanny 
every week, I knew she had stolen all 
my thunder. 

First, I think Mother has told you that 
Frank has been ordered to the First 
Reserve Hospital in Manila after fighting 
it off for about two months. He has not 
been really well since we reached here, 
and instead of giving up to it and getting 
some medicine from the doctor and taking 
care of himself, he has gone ahead, not 
saving himself and gradually growing 
worse and worse until suddenly the col- 

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lapse came. He was in no state to take 
the nine-mile drive into Manila, but it 
had to be done. We made him as com- 
fortable as we could by putting a big 
rocking-chair into the spring wagon, and 
the doctor filled him full of the strongest 
medicine he dared to give him just before 
we started. It was a terrible trip. It 
usually takes us an hour, but that day we 
started at four o'clock and never reached 
the hospital until nearly eight, as we could 
only crawl. 

He has been simply a bundle of nerves 
for several weeks and his heart has been 
acting badly, having attacks of palpita- 
tion at the least excitement. I was thank- 
ful when at last I saw him safely tucked 
into his little white cot and I felt that 
some one who knew what to do was 
responsible for his comfort for I had felt 
for days that here he was not getting the 
care he should have. Our doctor is fine, 
but there are many things a trained nurse 

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would think of to relieve him which are 
quite beyond my poor amateur attempts. 
I had kept him very quiet here for three 
days before he went into Manila, letting 
him see no one but the doctor, so you may 
imagine my horror when I found that he 
was to be put into a ward with sixteen other 
officers. However, no private room was 
unoccupied, so it had to be. He hated 
it and declared that he should leave in the 
morning if he had strength to crawl, but 
before morning came he was suffering 
such agony in his left knee that he could 
think of nothing else. 

I don't know what they call his trouble 
or whether they consider it serious or not, 
as they are very close-mouthed, but the 
doctor says that he will be sent to the 
States, as soon as he is strong enough to 
take the trip, as he cannot stand this 
climate. I don't know whether it will 
mean retirement, a detail in the States 
or a leave, and perhaps the doctor doesn't 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

know himself. In any case, Frank's 
friends who sent him the wire wishing him 
a "speedy return" will certainly have 
their wish. That is all I know, but I 
want you to know as much as I do and I 
will keep you posted. 

The hospital is fine, the nurses lovely, 
and he has everything that money and 
thought can provide. It is one of the 
finest military hospitals in the world, 
has a beautiful location, perfect equipment, 
a most appetizing mess, and a splendid 
medical corps. In fact, he couldn't be 
in a better hospital, but it is horrid to have 
him away just the same. 

I can't tell you how perfectly lovely 
every one has been. The afternoon that 
I took Frank in, we met Mr. Turner 
coming out from Manila to spend the 
night with the officers and have a regular 
jollification, for he had been away on a 
detail for a few days, and they were going 
to celebrate his return. We stopped only 

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long enough to say, " Hello, " as Frank was 
too weak for more and when we reached 
Manila and were just driving up to the 
hospital I heard a great clatteration behind 
us and the next minute Mr. Turner rode 
beside us. He had rushed ahead to the 
Post, after meeting us, changed horses, 
and rushed back so as to be with me at 
the hospital. His horse was covered with 
foam and looked as if he had been through 
a river, but I was so thankful to see 
him. 

After we saw Frank made comfortable for 
the night, he took me out to dinner and 
then would have turned around and driven 
back to Mariquina with me, only that I 
positively refused to let him go, as Frank 
had made me bring his striker, beside the 
driver, to protect my precious self from 
bolomen "and sich" on the way home. 
We were not attacked, but both our lamps 
went out, so we had to come home nearly 
as slowly as we went to town. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

When we reached the pumping station, 
we found Captain Overton and Mr. 
Lawrence sitting up, with a delicious 
little luncheon ready for me, and the 
captain had his own calesine harnessed 
to take me the rest of the way. I wouldn't 
let him go as it was after midnight, and I 
felt as if I were keeping enough poor souls 
out of their beds as it was. 

Mr. Turner's mother had been staying 
in town and was to remain through the big 
military tournament, which this week 
brings together hundreds of visitors from 
all over the island. She invited me to stay 
with her, so that I could be near enough 
to see Frank every day and also meet the 
people who were coming to the tournament 
from San Fernando, our headquarters, 
among whom were some friends I was wild 
to see. Finally I promised to go in on 
Thursday and stay until Saturday. 

I spent all the mornings at the hospital 
and every afternoon until three, when I 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

went to the tournament, and Frank took 
his nap. After the games, I went over 
and told him about the different events, 
who were there, what they said, etc., and 
it brightened him up wonderfully. 

A crowd of us sat together and cheered 

for the dear old Cavalry, when 

there was occasion, but, my dear, we did 
not lose our voices, for between you and 
me and the gas-lamp, we drew for the 
booby prize and lost it by only about two 
points, but "tell it not in Gath." 

We had most wretched luck, as six 
of our men, who were sure winners, came 
down with dingue fever at the last minute 
and were sent to the hospital, but we 
cheered whenever there was a ghost of a 
chance. 

Mrs. Turner was kindness itself and as 
she has a carriage, we drove everywhere, 
which means much in Manila. Thursday 
night I went to drive on the Lunetta with 
one of the officers from San Mateo, and 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

Friday night a charming dinner was given 
by some old friends of Frank's and after- 
wards we went to a perfectly heavenly 
dance at Pasay. That was the day Frank 
was feeling much better. 

The dance pavilion is built out on a neck 
of land that runs into the bay, and the 
breeze was glorious. I was invited to stay 
over to the Saturday dance at the Army 
and Navy Club, but I knew they were 
expecting me back here. 

Sunday evening, Lieutenant and Mrs. 
Holland from San Fernando stayed all 
night here. Mrs. Holland and I shared 
the same room and talked all night long. 
The next morning we all drove into 
Manila together. There had been a very 
heavy rain and the river was high, but 
we managed to get through, though the 
water came nearly up to the floor of the 
spring wagon. I spent the day with Frank 
and started for home just in time to be 
caught in a drenching shower. When 

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we reached the river, it was so high that 
the overseer at the pumping station ad- 
vised us not to attempt to ford it but to 
use the ferry, which we did. 

I went in again on Thursday and by 
that time the river was so swollen that there 
was some doubt if the ferry were strong 
enough to take us over. After crossing, 
the driver advised us to return by way of 
Pasig, three miles out of our way, rather 
than risk it again. It is well we did, 
for it poured all day and even the big 
government ferry at Pasig seemed not too 
strong. 

It rained all Thursday night, and all 
day to-day, but I have made my plans 
to go in to-morrow morning, rain or shine, 
as I promised Frank I would. He was 
suffering so when I was in yesterday that 
I have been beside myself with anxiety. 

Now we hear that the Pasig ferry is 
out of commission and you can imagine 
the state I am in. That is the reason 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

I am writing to you for you know I always 
tell you everything first, because I am 
perfectly sure you will understand. I 
want to walk the floor and scream! — 
But I suppose it would not mend matters 
materially. 

Well, it is late and I must get up early 
to-morrow. I will write again soon and 
answer your letter. 

Lots of love and a hug for your dear self. 

Beth. 

Mariquina, Rizal, 

July 3- 

Dearest Cuz: 

Just a line for the mail to-morrow! 
The last time I wrote you I intended to go 
in town the next day, rain or shine. Well, 
it poured all that night and poured the next 
day, but I was determined to go, neverthe- 
less. I could get no transportation from 
here, but Captain Overton offered to let 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

me have his spring wagon if I could find 
any way of reaching the pumping station. 
As I was about ready to start Lieutenant 
Lawrence drove up, having been brought 
on a raft across the river between here 
and San Mateo, and he wanted me to go 
to Manila with him. I jumped into his 
buckboard and we started off for the 
pumping station. The roads were simply 
fierce! Mud up to the hubs and such mud! 
— but by having the mules unharnessed 
and sending them over first, then the wagon 
and lastly ourselves, we managed to cross 
by the ferry. Captain Overton had his 
ponies harnessed to his beautiful victoria 
and his cochero in white livery ready for 
me, not knowing that I was coming with 
Lieutenant Lawrence, but I kept on in 
the spring wagon. 

I found Frank suffering terribly. He 
had been so lonely that I stayed with him 
all day, except while Lieutenant Lawrence 
and I went to luncheon, which he would 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

insist on taking at the finest hotel in Manila. 
It was late when we started for home, 
and we decided to be on the safe side and 
go back by way of Pasig. We arrived 
there about six o'clock when it was already 
growing dark, and we realized that it 
would be black before we reached Mari- 
quina, but imagine our feelings when we 
found that the ferry wasn't running! 
The mules had travelled over twenty 
miles and we knew they wouldn't last to 
go back seven miles to Manila and then 
out to San Mateo, and there is no place 
at Pasig where one can spend the night, 
which, of course, was out of the question 
in any case. 

About this time a band of angels 
appeared, disguised as the guard at Pasig, 
all troopers from our own regiment, and 
they said they would try to get us across. 
It seemed utterly impossible but while we 
stood there dumbfounded at the thought 
of such an undertaking, they hailed two 

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little boats made of trees hollowed out. 
I was sent over in one, with our vegetables 
and eggs and other marketings, while they 
unharnessed the mules, tied ropes around 
their necks and brought them over one at 
a time, making them swim for it, as the 
water was more than ten feet over their 
heads. Then they took the buckboard, 
a monstrous big one, and putting two 
wheels in each of those little boats rowed 
it over. I never saw anything more 
cleverly done. I wanted to give each of 
the men a thousand dollars on the spot, 
but I didn't. We lost the road several times 
and it was late before we were at home, 
but we were thankful to be there at all. 

When I went in town last Thursday — 
I had Captain Overton's team — I found 
Frank even worse than the time before. 
The rheumatism, or whatever it is, had 
gone into the other foot and into his neck, 
and he was almost crazy with the pain. 
The doctor said he would send him on the 

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Sheridan, July 15, if he could be carried 
to the boat without causing him too much 
suffering, as this rainy season is bad for his 
trouble. There are no glass windows 
in the officers' ward, or in fact anywhere 
in the hospital, I believe. When it rains 
they close the wooden shutters, which 
makes it as dark as a pocket and they 
can't turn on the electric lights until 
night. It is too forlorn for words, and 
poor Frank is discouraged. 

Mr. Turner took me in town yesterday, 
and although Frank's rheumatism has 
now gone into his other knee so that he 
is entirely helpless from his waist down, 
he did not look quite as ill and the nurse 
thought perhaps he was a shade better. 

I am packing up, — a fearful job, — but 
we shall get all ready on the chance that 
at the last minute the doctors may think 
it safe to put him on board. If he doesn't 
go on this boat, he cannot go for another 
month and I cannot bear the thought of 
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his lying there and suffering for thirty 
more long days. 

I am sorry to leave the Philippines 
without having the southern trip or going 
to China, but my one thought now is to 
take Frank out of this place. I have loved 
it and could enjoy two years here more 
than at any Post in the whole United 
States, but it certainly does not agree 
with Frank. I have asked for transporta- 
tion on the Sheridan, but we shall probably 
not know until the last minute whether 
we can have it or not. 

I am going to spend the day with him 
to-morrow. There were to have been 
"doings" in Manila to celebrate the 
Fourth, but it has rained hard for twelve 
hours with no present prospect of its 
stopping, so the celebration may have 
to be given up. 

I am rather glad on Mother's account 
that we are going back, for although she 
is much better than she was, yet it doesn't 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

agree with her here particularly well. 

I have no idea what our plans will be 
after reaching San Francisco, as every- 
thing depends on what the doctors at 
the Presidio Hospital say to Frank. 

Mrs. Turner is going with us as far as 
Nagasaki, which is fine for us, as she has 
been there several times and knows all 
the shops, hotels, etc. 

I will write when I know anything 
further. Lovingly yours, 

Beth. 

P. S. This is simply the last straw! 
As if I hadn't trouble enough! Dr. 
Rogers came in just now while I was 
packing and asked me if I would mind 
taking a little package for him and mailing 
it when we reached San Francisco. Of 
course I told him I should be delighted. 
I was taken up with the trunk I was pack- 
ing and didn't notice that he kept hovering 
around in an unsettled way. Finally, 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

he said, "I wouldn't trouble you if I could 
pay the duty at this end, but I hate to 
have her pay the duty, as — as it's a pres- 
ent!" I assured him that it would be no 
trouble whatever and made a few forceful 
remarks on the subject of tariff in general. 
Still, like Mary's little lamb, he lingered 
near! At last, he broke out with, "Oh! 
I say, Mrs. Arnold! I want to tell you, 
that is an engagement present! It is 
for Miss Standish! and" — blushing to the 
roots of his hair, with his words falling all 
over each other in his embarrassment, — 
"we're goingtobemarried — assoonas I go — 
tothe — States!" 

I sat right down in front of the trunk 
I was packing and groaned aloud, but 
he was so red and uncomfortable I think 
he didn't notice. How long I sat there, 
with Chippendale tables, and dear old 
ladies, and corner cupboards falling all 
about my ears, I don't know, but I came 
to myself in time to hear him say, "Her 

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home is in Chicago, but she and her 
father have been boarding in Boston this 
winter, as he is connected with a large 
pork concern there!" 

I tried to come up to the scratch and 
make my congratulations sound joyful 
and hearty, but oh, my dear, such a 
blow! I am about discouraged, and ready 
to say that you may take one of those 
men from civil life, but no! With a 
chance of Frank's retirement, it is more 
than ever necessary to find an officer for 
you, that I may at least visit in the army! 
No dear old home on Beacon Hill! No 
place to visit after the theatre! Oh, dear! 
and I prided myself that I was an adept 
in chirography! 

j* 

The Glorious Fourth. 
Dearest Cousin: 

I was preparing to retire when I found 
the letter that I sat up to write you last 

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night and took in town with me this 
morning in order that it might go out on 
to-day's boat. Was there ever such a 
goose! Now I will add a short P. S. 

I went in town with Mr. Saunders and 
the doctor to-day. We started at an 
unearthly hour that we might take in the 
procession. It was due to start at eight 
and as I could not see Frank until nine, 
I thought I would see the beginning of it 
anyway. We simply tore all the way in, 
although the roads were in frightful con- 
dition, and found a good place near the 
grandstand. As we drove up, we heard 
the bands playing and saw some men 
marching out of sight. Then, to our 
great surprise, people began to scramble 
down from the grandstand and disperse 
in all directions. We consulted the time. 
It was only 8.15! What could it mean? 
Finally we spied an officer whom we knew 
and asked him to please 'make explana- 
tions." He said it was quite simple. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

The processioners being of the early- 
bird variety, having all assembled at seven 
o'clock, decided not to wait but to have the 
procession at once! Can you see one of 
our Fourth of July processions at home 
starting an hour ahead of time ? 

He said they are apt to do this sort of 
thing, and that the grandstand was rilled 
even before they started. I am glad some 
one was up in time to see it for we heard 
that it was very fine, particularly the 
Chinese display. 

From there I intended to go to the 
post-office to mail your letter, but Mr. 
Saunders suggested that we should hunt 
up some fireworks for the evening, and the 
letter entirely slipped my mind. Nothing 
short of my patriotism could have made 
me forget you, dear Cousin! We had a 
dreadful time finding fireworks, to begin 
with, and when discovered, the prices were 
outrageous. We expected they would 
be all but given away, as we are near 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

China, but we had to pay over twice as 
much as we do at home. We managed 
to purchase a few Roman candles and some 
red fire and then put all the rest of our 
money into one elegant piece. A flower- 
pot! It was a huge affair and the Chink 
assured us that it would yield a joy nothing 
could efface. In a measure he spoke the 
truth. 

I spent the day with Frank, who is 
feeling about the same and very anxious 
to go on the Sheridan. 

After dinner to-night we all drew our 
chairs up to the front windows, while 
Lieutenant Saunders and the doctor de- 
scended to the front yard to show the 
natives what patriotic citizens we really 
are. The B. Bs. were out in force and 
every available space on our high iron 
fence was occupied. The yard was ter- 
ribly squashy after the heavy rains, but 
the officers managed very well by standing 
on boards. The Roman candles excited 

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the wildest enthusiasm, as did the red 
fire; and we were quite proud. The town 
crier was there, well to the front, and 
seemed to be taking mental notes to 
regale his patrons to-morrow. 

We saved the flower-pot for the grand 
finale, and of course we were most anxious 
that it should be the crowning success of 
the evening. In order to achieve the best 
result it was necessary to put it up on 
something fairly high. Nothing in the 
yard would answer, but Hillario said he 
knew the right thing and soon he and 
Lucillio appeared, dragging between them 
a huge ladder which had been used for 
lighting the lamps on our fifteen-foot iron 
gate-posts. A clumsy thing was formed 
by balancing two ladders together, all 
same card house, but there was no doubt 
about its giving the flower-pot the desired 
elevation. Armed with matches and the 
grand climax of the evening, Lieutenant 
Saunders and the doctor mounted slowly 

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step by step, on opposite sides of the 
ladder, while Hillario, Jose, and Lucillio, 
braced at the bottom. At last they reached 
the top, or near enough to place their 
precious burden in position. There 
seemed to be a little difficulty about light- 
ing it. Lieutenant Saunders carefully ap- 
plied a match. It gave a few vicious 
spits and then died out. Then the doctor 
cautiously applied a match, and a spark 
flew up, but just as the crowd was prepar- 
ing to cheer, out it went again. Then 
Lieutenant Saunders approached it gin- 
gerly from his side, match in hand. We 
held our several breaths until we were 
black in the face, in an agony of excitement, 
when suddenly, Bang! Up into the air 
shot a shower of stars and down into the 
mud shot that ladder, and incidentally 
flower-pot, doctor, Lieutenant Saunders, 
and the three muchachos. Then there 
was given such an exhibition of pyrotech- 
nics as has rarely been rivalled. Blue 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

balls and red balls and multi-colored 
stars were interspersed with legs and arms 
and mud and, I regret to add, profanity! 

Nothing that Burbank has yet achieved 
could hold a candle to that fantastic bloom. 
We had our money's worth. Never have I 
seen so many "golden snows," "silver 
showers," " shooting stars," and " rainbow 
effects," all emerging from one flower-pot. 

The natives simply went mad over it, 
and judging from the noise so did the 
officers and muchachos. When at last 
they were able to untangle themselves 
and crawl out from under that heap of 
ladder and exhausted flower-pot, I wish 
you could have seen them. Why they 
weren't shot full of holes I don't know, 
but I believe the doctor thinks the flower- 
pot landed on his back after he had landed 
on top of Lieutenant Saunders, and went 
off" from that position. This probably 
saved their lives, but they failed to regard 
it with proper thankfulness! 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

When they were at last able to take 
an upright position Bobby added insult 
to injury by inquiring in perfect serious- 
ness, "Is that all?" I never came so near 
hysterics in my life! My sides ache 
now as if I had been run over by a train, 
but my condition is nothing compared 
to that of the officers. They are a mass 
of bruises and as to their uniforms — 
fortunately they wore old ones — they are 
masterpieces of pyrography ! 

Now I must try to get some sleep. 
Lovingly, 

Beth. 

P. S. No. 2 — I should like to hear the 
town crier's description of our grand finale! 

Mariquina Rizal, 

July 12. 
Dearest Bess: 

I was never so excited in all my life! 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

I can't sleep if I go to bed and I may as 
well tell you about it! 

To begin with, last week, the ferry 
which we have been using to cross to the 
pumping station went to the bottom in 
midstream with eight of our men on 
board. Four of them were drowned as the 
river is so swift that no one could reach 
them before they were dashed over the 
falls. One body was found a mile below, 
one three miles down the river, and two 
at Manila. The bodies were not re- 
covered for two or three days. It has been 
terribly depressing, and cast a gloom over 
the whole place. I had to go in to see 
Frank the day after the accident. The 
ferry had not been properly repaired, and 
when we were about in midstream, the 
native ponies became restive, the front 
guard-rail broke and came down with a 
crash, and they began to stampede, and 
we thought everything was all over. I 
was the only "white man" on board and 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

I was scared blue! We barely managed 
to reach the other side. I arrived in 
Manila without further accident and of 
course never told Frank a word about 
the drowning or the ferry. 

The doctor said he was gaining slowly 
but he thought it more than doubtful if 
we could sail on the Sheridan as Frank 
is absolutely helpless and the trip to the 
boat would be very painful; yet, on the 
other hand, they are anxious to get him 
out of this dampness. I was disappointed 
because if we are going, the sooner the 
better for him. While I was out at 
luncheon some idiot brought Frank the 
Manila paper, with news of the accident. 
He was terribly upset and made me 
promise not to use the ferry again. Con- 
sequently when I went in on Saturday 
I had to go by Pasig, and as it rained 
cats and dogs I was soaking wet. 

The doctor in charge of Frank's case 
had asked for a board to decide about his 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

going on the Sheridan. I hoped they would 
decide before I had to start for home, but 
all I could find out was that the typhoon 
signal was up and that if it were rough 
they couldn't possibly get him to the 
Transport, which anchors two miles out. 

Sunday noon Captain Overton tele- 
phoned me that the board had decided 
Frank should be sent on the Sheridan. 

Maybe we didn't have to hustle. Cap- 
tain Palmer was spending the day here 
and he, with some men from the troop, 
invoiced, marked, weighed, and numbered 
fifty-one pieces of freight which had to go 
early next morning. I was never half so 
tired since I was born, and how I missed 
you when I was writing all the tags. 
You remember you wrote them before. 

We planned to go Wednesday morning 
to a hotel, attend to some last errands 
and dressmaking, and go aboard Thurs- 
day, as our trunks must be put on before 
Friday morning. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

The typhoon broke just after I reached 
home Monday night. It came down in 
sheets all night, and, my dear, this morning 
the river which usually is three hundred 
feet back of us, was in our yard! Of the 
orchard of banana trees behind our house 
only the topmost leaves could be seen. 

By nine o'clock the Mariquina ferry was 
entirely washed away and Lieutenant 
Saunders telephoned to San Mateo to see 
if we could go in by way of Pasig, as 
the lines were down between here and that 
place. The Pasig ferry was out of com- 
mission and would be unavailable for 
several days at least! Then our command- 
ing officer telegraphed to Manila and 
asked them to send a boat up the Pasig 
to take us and our trunks to Manila. 
That was at ten o'clock this morning and 
it has poured so hard ever since, that we 
have to scream to make ourselves heard 
above the rain. This forenoon Lieutenant 
Saunders tried to call San Mateo to see 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

if the commanding officer had been able 
to get the boat for us, only to find that all 
telephone and telegraph lines are down 
between here and San Mateo and the 
pumping station, so we are absolutely 
cut off from everything! 

The river between here and San Mateo, 
usually only about eight inches high, is 
now a dozen feet over a horse's head and 
so swift that horses cannot swim in it. 
The river has already come over three 
hundred feet out of its course with a rise 
of over twenty feet, and is rising every 
minute. Our wash-woman, who came 
to-night, said she stepped out of her house 
into water nearly up to her waist. What 
are we going to do ? We are as much cut 
off from the rest of the world as if we were 
on a desert island, and think of poor 
Frank! It drives me wild when I think 
how he is probably worrying, although 
he can have no idea of the helplessness 
of our position. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

As it looks now, nothing short of a mir- 
acle can get us to Manila in time to take 
the Transport and it will be horrid for him 
to have to go without us. We have 
packed everything but our tooth-brushes, 
and sit around waiting to see what will 
happen next! It continues to pour as if 
Jupiter Pluvius had turned on the flood- 
gates and forgotten the combination to 
shut them off. Like the manna of the 
Israelites on the sixth day, enough has 
fallen to last for two days, but in our case, 
enough rain has fallen to last two months. 
I say quietly but firmly, that we have had 
all the weather we can stand for the present. 
Lieutenant Saunders says he knows that 
the road between here and Pasig is all 
under water and that no boat can come 
up the river against the current. 

I could not begin to tell you how kind 
every one has been to us. That is one 
thing about the army, all do just as much 
for one another as if their mothers and 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

grandmothers had played together, and 
they do it in the loveliest way! I adore 
the army more every day I am in it, and 
I fairly shudder when I think that Frank 
may have to give it up! However, the 
doctor believes he will be all right in the 
United States. 

I must write some more tags for our 
trunks. I was disappointed to have no let- 
ter from you in the mail yesterday. I felt 
that out of five hundred sacks there must be 
one letter for me from my dearest cousin. 
Yours de profundis, 
Beth. 

Transport "Sheridan" 
Pacific Ocean, 

July 31. 
Dearest Bess: 

It seems years since I have written to you, 
and I am appalled when I think of all I 
wish to say. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

The last day or two at Mariquina seem 
like a dream, or no! — more like an awful 
nightmare! There we were, nearly sur- 
rounded by water (all same island), 
telegraph and telephone wires down, the 
river over the tops of a dozen posts be- 
tween us and the pumping station, both 
ferries washed away, and four bridges 
down between us and Manila. We knew 
Frank would have to sail on the Sheridan, 
and we realized what it would mean to 
him in his extremely nervous state if we 
were prevented from going on the boat 
with him. We had to get our transporta- 
tion papers the day before sailing and on 
July 13, although we were all packed, 
we seemed to be no nearer Manila than you 
are. At noon, the telephone line between 
San Mateo and Mariquina was patched 
up and we had a message from the com- 
manding officer. The men had made 
three separate attempts to take a govern- 
ment boat to Pasig to carry us and our 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

trunks to Manila, only to be driven back 
before they had gone half a mile; and they 
had been forced to give it up for the day. 
They would wait until the fourteenth and 
make another trial, if the river had gone 
down in the meantime. The commanding 
officer ordered Lieutenant Saunders to 
take a detachment of the troop and see 
if we could get through to Pasig, in case 
the boat was able to make it the next 
day. I had already sent my own beauti- 
ful muchacho Lucillio to the pumping 
station with a note to Captain Overton, 
telling him of our position and begging 
him to think of some plan to get us out. 
How Lucillio was to reach the pumping 
station I didn't know, but he declared 
that he would do it, dead or alive, and 
return before dark. 

While Lieutenant Saunders was gone 
I telephoned to Lieutenant Turner at San 
Mateo. I knew he was holding "Non 
Corn's School," but I felt that unless 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

he could help us, our case was hopeless. 

He dropped everything and came almost 
at the risk of his life. In crossing the river, 
the natives were frightened by the current 
and lost control of the raft, and he had 
pulled off his coat and riding-boots, pre- 
paring to swim for it, when by a miracle 
they made a landing! He reached Mari- 
quina late in the afternoon and as you may 
imagine, was more welcome than an angel 
from heaven! He immediately "took the 
helm," and he said he would see us on 
board the Sheridan before it sailed, or 
burst! Lieutenant Saunders returned, wet 
and tired and late for his dinner, with 
the cheering news that there were two 
bridges down between us and Pasig — 
so that was out of the question! 

After dinner, Mr. Turner by the aid 
of a dozen troopers with lanterns examined 
the road between Mariquina and the pump- 
ing station. He took a trumpeter with 
him, thinking the bugle, sounding officer's 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

call, might attract the attention of Captain 
Overton on his side of the river. I sug- 
gested that water call would be more 
appropriate. However, when the men 
reached the river, they could hardly make 
themselves heard above its roar. 

Mr. Turner hunted up a native who said 
he would try to carry us and our trunks 
across in the morning. The boat was 
the regular native dug-out, less than a 
foot and a half wide and about twelve 
feet long. Two men propel these boats 
with spoon-shaped paddles, and it is 
wonderful to see what they can do with 
them in a swift current. After Mr. Turner 
had looked the ground over he told the 
man we would be there about 7.30 o'clock 
the next morning. 

He found two culverts in the road, about 
ten feet wide and five feet deep, that would 
have to be bridged with heavy timbers 
before we could cross, but that was to be 
done in the morning. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

They returned about midnight and we 
talked it all over. He said it was a big 
risk and that if we all crossed with nothing 
worse than a wetting, we should be lucky! 
I couldn't see how they were going to 
manage my big Saratoga trunks on those 
boats and Mr. Turner himself was dubious. 

In spite of all this excitement my birth- 
day was not forgotten and we had the 
nicest dinner possible, having even ice- 
cream, although it took the last piece of 
ice available for a week or ten days. 
Sing outdid himself and made a great 
birthday cake and delicious candy. 

We were all up at five o'clock the next 
morning, the trunks strapped, the bedding 
roll made, and all the last things done 
when Lucillio appeared with a long note 
from Captain Overton. He had been 
in town the night before and returned 
too late for Lucillio to cross the river. 
He said the one chance for us to make the 
boat was to cross the river to him. He 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

would be waiting for us early in the 
morning with plenty of men from his 
troop to carry our trunks, and he would 
send Mother, Bobby, and Lieutenant 
Turner into Manila in the spring wagon, 
take me in his victoria and let the trunks 
follow in an escort wagon. He told us 
to be provided with an entire change of 
clothing as we could not make the crossing 
without spoiling everything we had on. 
He did not consider it safe, but it was the 
only solution to the situation. 

It would make me tired even now to write 
of the delays we had in starting. We 
finally left Mariquina about nine-thirty 
o'clock and when it came to the point, 
I found it hard to keep the tears back. 
I had loved it all, and we had had good 
times there, and it seemed forlorn to go 
away alone. Half the town turned out 
to see us start and poor dear little Sally 
sat up on my window-sill, hugging herself 
and making kisses until we were out of 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

sight. I forgot to mention that while 
we were at breakfast, she chewed all the 
tags off the trunks — the last tags we had 
in the house — and such a time as I had 
finding pieces of cardboard or any old 
thing to fill their places! I forgave her, 
she is such a little dear! 

Lieutenant Turner was always jolly 
and ready to turn every mishap into a 
joke! When we came to the first culvert 
we discovered that through some oversight 
it had not been bridged. I thought it was 
all off and we should have to go back, but 
Lieutenant Turner galloped off and soon 
returned with a road inspector and a 
gang of fifty natives. After a delay of 
three-quarters of an hour, they had it 
bridged so that we could cross, and after 
a short delay at the next culvert, we reached 
the river. Captain Overton had been 
waiting for us three hours. When I saw 
the river, I would have gladly hiked back 
to Mariquina! It looked like boiling 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

cocoa, and we could locate the roads 
that led to the ferry only by the tops of 
the tallest trees, peeping just above the 
surface. 

We left the wagon about a quarter 
of a mile from the usual place. Captain 
Overton and Mr. Turner made a chair 
with their hands and carried us over one 
at a time to the little boat, the horrid, 
sticky mud up to their knees. 

The men who carried the big trunks were 
up to their waists in mud and water, and 
the Lord only knows how they did it! 
I can't tell you much about the crossing! 
The officers who went over in the boat 
with us had the precaution to take off 
their coats and boots in case of any trouble, 
and Bobby was warned that if he so much 
as sneezed we should all promptly go to 
the bottom. If the natives hadn't been 
wonders we never should have seen the 
other side, but they really are more at 
home on the water than on land. It 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

seemed as if it took us an hour to cross 
as we had to go far up the river before we 
tried to cross the swiftest part of the 
current. Then the minute the current 
caught us we were whirled around and 
rushed down the stream at a furious rate. 
When I saw the shore rushing by us I 
thought we should go straight over the 
falls and down to Manila without a stop, 
but gradually the desperate paddling began 
to tell. Little by little the shore came 
nearer and nearer, and as soon as it was 
possible a lot of natives, who were waiting 
for us, threw out a rope and we were drawn 
in. How good it seemed to have the boat 
slide into the mud on the other side! 
Mother never waited for the "chair," 
but jumped out and galloped up the bank 
through the mud, shedding her rubbers 
on the way. Bobby followed, fortunately 
barefooted, with his trousers well turned 
up, and Captain Overton was so relieved 
to have us safely across that, wholly 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

oblivious of my one hundred and ten 
pounds, he picked me up like a baby and 
ran up the hill as if the devil were after us. 
He took us to his quarters, where every- 
thing was arranged for our comfort. He 
turned his room and shower-bath over to us 
and as soon as we were dressed and had 
packed our mud-soaked clothes, he an- 
nounced that luncheon was ready. We 
had expected to have something to eat 
in town, but he thought it would save 
time and be easier for us to lunch with him. 
Everything tasted good and the table was 
pretty with flowers and cut glass and silver! 
Just like a real party! 

We started for Manila about noon, and 
the trip took twice as long as usual on 
account of the water, which in many 
places was nearly up to the body of the 
carriage. Bad as the storm was at Mari- 
quina, I had no idea of the damage done 
by it, until we reached Manila and read 
the papers. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

One whole town was entirely washed 
off the map by a cloudburst, and it is 
believed that fully two hundred persons 
were drowned. When we left, the river 
was subsiding and they were finding 
bodies everywhere. The morgue was 
crowded. All railroad traffic was stopped 
for three days and Manila looked like 
a second Venice. When we were there 
many of the streets were still under water. 
The governor and the other city officials 
were obliged to go to their several posts of 
duty in boats, and as the electric light 
plant was under water, the city was in 
total darkness for several nights. 

The day we sailed, the famous Bridge 
of Spain was threatened, and guards were 
placed at either end to prevent people 
from crossing. It was damaged by a 
barge which broke from her mooring and 
came crashing down the river. About 
a dozen natives were on board and as 
she came whirling down at a terrific rate 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

they could be seen running about in an 
agony of fear, like rats trying to leave 
a sinking ship. A crowd was watching 
from the bridge, waiting for the inevitable 
crash! At last it came, the barge striking 
it broadsides. The whole bridge shivered 
from the shock and the sides of the barge 
crunched in like a peanut shell. The poor 
creatures screamed for help, which was 
fortunately at hand, and what do you 
suppose was the first thing to be tenderly 
handed up from the doomed barge ? 
One of the children? Oh, no! A plump 
and glossy fighting-cock! 

You remember that I have spoken of 
Clarke's, the confectionery store of Manila, 
where I always went for luncheon ? Well, 
a snake was washed up on the front steps, 
fourteen feet long! And not dead either! 
I am glad I was not lunching there at that 
time! 

The First Reserve Hospital where Frank 
stayed was threatened, but the water did 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

not cover the floors although the grounds 
were under water for several hours and 
every preparation was made to remove 
the patients if it became necessary. 

One of the disagreeable effects of the 
storm was the stench arising from millions 
of dead earthworms which lay rotting 
on all sides and produced an effect on the 
atmosphere calculated to turn the stomach 
of a stone image. 

It was romantic and picturesque when 
one of the high officials Jiad to be carried 
to the city hall, "pig-a-back," by a 
faithful menial, and goodness only knows 
how many more rode in like state. An- 
other Mighty Person on his homeward 
way had to divest himself of his robes of 
state, and swim, in company with his 
horse and cochero, toward the light that 
indicated the location of his home. He 
does not dwell in a marsh either, but on 
one of the city's most travelled thorough- 
fares! 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

Strange to say, the natives succumbed 
most easily to the dangers of the storm. 
They offered no evidence in support of 
the theory that "the Filipino can take care 
of himself in his own country/' They 
huddled in their shacks, knowing perfectly 
well that they would soon be swept away, 
but waiting for the paternal government 
to come and save them. It certainly did 
its best. 

Captain Overton took me to the hospital 
first, to let Frank know that we had 
arrived, and then to see about transporta- 
tion, freight, etc., while Mr. Turner took 
Mother and Bobby to the hotel. Captain 
Overton not only turned his victoria over 
to me for the afternoon, but went with me, 
which was worth much in seeing the 
different military officials, who hate to do 
business with petticoats. 

The last thing we did, after six o'clock, 
was to go to the quartermaster's to see 
if the trunks had come safely, and to have 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

them checked. There were ten trunks, 
a steamer chair, the Colombo hamper, 
and my bedding roll. 

The first question of the health inspector 
was, "Are there any pillows in your 
bedding-roll ?" I was too fatigued to lie, 
and said there were four, whereupon he 
said I would have to leave them, as mat- 
tresses and pillows could not be carried 
in a bedding-roll unless they had been 
through the government disinfecting plant. 
I did not feel like giving him my four 
live goose feather pillows and asked if 
there were no other way. He drew me 
to one side and said, "If you can jam them 
into one of your trunks, I will have the roll 
and the trunk taken into a back room 
where you can open them. ,, I knew there 
was room in one of my dress trunks as I 
had been expecting some new gowns from 
the Chinese dressmaker in Manila and 
left two trays for them, so I hailed the 
suggestion joyfully! 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

I had not looked carefully at the trunks 
before as my only thought had been to see 
that they were all present or accounted 
for. It was rather dark when my trunk 
was brought into the back room, but I 
discovered that it was covered an inch 
thick with Mariquina mud. (This is 
where you may get out your hanky and 
prepare to shed scalding tears!) It took 
us forever to open it, as the lock was 
jammed full of mud, but at last the key 
turned and the cover came up with a bang! 
Oh, my dear! I hardly have the heart 
to write it. Everything that I prized 
most was in that top tray. There they 
were, my pretty new gown with beautiful 
embroidery, the white lawn with yards 
and yards of ruffles and lace, the blue 
and white jusi with blue ribbons, that I 
had never had on, all my pretty girdles, 
six new hand-embroidered shirtwaists, ten 
yards of blue embroidered muslin, and 
ten yards of white muslin with little blue 

2 3 8 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

butterflies over it, besides lots of other 
things that I can't think of now. All 
soaking in mud! We took out that tray 
only to find the next in the same condition. 
This held my wash dresses that I expected 
to wear on the boat, pinks, blues, and 
whites, all mixed with mud and ooze! 
The next tray containing two woolen 
suits looked even worse ! And so on to the 
bottom! I wish you could have beheld 
those ostrich fans from Aden, attractively 
fastened in separate boxes by ribbons. 
They would certainly have made you 
laugh — or cry! They looked like a couple 
of drowned hens. Then two beautiful 
tea-cloths from Malta, — well, it is enough 
to say that everything in one of my largest 
trunks is ruined. 

If Captain Overton hadn't been there, 
I should have sat down on my baggage, 
like a sure enough immigrant, and howled! 
We suppose it fell off the boat in bringing 
it across the river and having seen the boat 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

I only wonder why they didn't all fall 
off! There was nothing to do but to jam 
my pillows into the trays I had left for my 
new gowns, and have it locked up again. 

That evening Lieutenant Palmer and 
Captain Overton made the last arrange- 
ments for getting us on board the next 
morning. My dear girl, you will never 
know until you are in the army yourself 
how perfectly adorable army officers are. 
Every one knows that they are simply 
fascinating to young girls, in their becoming 
uniforms and brass buttons, but the place 
to see their real worth is with a poor old 
married girl, with a sick husband, and no 
end of worries. From now on I look at 
a shoulder strap as merely a modified form 
of halo. 

At eight o'clock the next morning 
Captain Overton arrived at the hotel and 
from that time until the last launch left 
at eleven-thirty, he went shopping with 
me. When we arrived at the wharf there 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

was hardly breathing room left in the 
victoria and we had to be pried out one at 
a time from the packages. 

As Frank had been dreading his trip 
to the boat to such an extent that even with 
opiates he hadn't slept for three nights, 
we expected he would be utterly prostrated 
and it was a great relief to find him fairly 
comfortable, that is, for a man who has 
lain flat on his back for thirteen days. 

All our friends came to see us off, who 
could get there in spite of the flood and the 
pouring rain, and Captain Overton, Lieu- 
tenant Palmer, and Lieutenant Turner 
gave us a good send-off. It was lovely 
for us to have Mrs. Turner with us for 
she is good company and we are very 
fond of her. Mother and Bobby and I 
had a good-sized state-room, and Frank 
had a lovely, sunny room all to himself 
in the hospital, with three windows in it. 
Not until the pilot left us and we were 
really off did I realize how tired I was. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

I felt as if I would like to crawl into my 
bunk and stay there forever! 

The trip to Nagasaki was not entirely 
pleasant. To begin with, I was dead 
tired, and it rained every day. It was like 
pulling teeth to crawl out the first morning 
and Mother tried to persuade me to stay 
in my bunk until I felt rested, but I was 
anxious to know how Frank had stood 
the night so I struggled into my clothes. 

It was not very rough but bad enough 
to lay out Frank's nurse, and I found 
Frank in a pitiful state. The effect of the 
medicine they had given him to get him on 
board had worn off and he was suffering 
horribly. I did what I could to make him 
comfortable. He couldn't be moved with- 
out excruciating agony and every groan 
went through me like a knife. It took 
me over three hours to make him even 
passably comfortable, and when it was 
over I crawled back to my bunk more dead 
than alive, whereupon Mother and Mrs. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

Turner and the doctor stood over me and 
read the riot act. It was most humiliating, 
hut I had to stay there twenty-four hours! 
I was as sore as if I had been in an ex- 
plosion, and so tired! It looked as if I 
wouldn't be able to go ashore at Nagasaki, 
but I stayed quiet and took my medicine, 
and when we reached there I felt more 
like myself. 

From the first glimpse of Japan to the 
last, everything about it was perfect! 
No fairyland ever boasted anything as 
bewitching as the little Jap babies. How 
I wanted to bring you one! We stayed 
from Wednesday until Saturday, and on 
Friday we took a trip to Mogi, which 
seems like a dream. No Pooh Bah, 
Yum Yum, or Pitti Sing ever approached 
the fascination of the real thing! Such 
politeness, such daintiness, I felt as big 
as a carabao among them! Mrs. Turner 
took us everywhere and made our stay 
there delightful! It was hard to say 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

good-bye to her and the dear little island! 
She is going to travel all over it and I 
envy them both! 

The weather up to this time was all 
against Frank, damp and gloomy, and 
affected not only his spirits but his rheu- 
matism till he was in the depths of de- 
spair. 

After we left Japan we hoped to strike 
nice sunny weather, but it rained for two 
days and then we ran into a typhoon. 
Now that it is over, I am glad to have 
seen one, but while we were in it — well, 
the ocean looked extremely deep and 
wet! 

The waves were twenty-five feet high, 
according to the captain, but I know they 
were as high as Bunker Hill Monument. 
We were heavily loaded and the poor old 
boat would poke her nose into a mountain 
of water, then shudder and draw back, 
and seem to catch her breath before 
making another plunge. The life-boats 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

were ready to be launched, in case any one 
should be swept overboard, as every wave 
washed the decks. 

The captain looked over the records 
of tvphoons encountered in exactly the same 
locality and found that out of fifty-eight 
cases, fifty-six had moved in a southerly 
direction; so he steered his course ac- 
cordingly, only to find that this particular 
typhoon followed the course of the two 
exceptions. We went further and further 
into it and the wind increased to such an 
extent that we were making only a mile 
and a half an hour with full steam on. 
Then we stopped and drifted for seven 
hours until the sea grew a little less rough. 
It will make us about two days late at 
San Francisco. 

After that, with good weather, Frank 
began to improve, and day before yester- 
day, he was able to put his right foot to the 
floor for a few minutes, for the first time 
in seven weeks. He is much encouraged 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

and although his left side is still helpless 
and full of pain, the doctor says he will 
have him carried out on deck at Honolulu, 
if he continues to improve. 

A hop is to be given for us at Honolulu 
and I have been invited but my limited 
wardrobe will prevent an acceptance. 
My bath-wrap and kimona are about all 
that is left to me! I needed you when 
at last they let me down into the trunk- 
room and I got at my poor old wreck. 
Everything was green and blue and black 
with mildew and mould. Such a smell! 
and such a sight! Some of the things 
had regular fuzzy whiskers all over them! 
I shut the trunk up again, and at Frisco 
I shall ask some one kindly to take it out 
of my sight. The others may be just as 
bad. I have had courage to open only 
two beside the wreck and they — thank 
heaven! — were all right. 

Bobby is wild with joy at the thought 
of going back to the States, and it was 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

certainly lonely for him at Mariquina 
without a child to play with. 

Travelling on a Transport with a lot 
of "Casuals" is very different from having 
your own regiment and band on board, 
with all the necessary military formations. 
This is simply pokey! 

There is a good young man on board, 
a member of the Y. M. C. A., who has a 
phonograph, which he turns loose on us 
every evening with "The Old Oaken 
Bucket," "Nearer, My God, to Thee," 
and "The Holy City." The men may 
let him live until we reach Honolulu, but 
we all hope for the best. 

I will stop now, and you will doubtless 
be glad to know I have so many symptoms 
of writer's cramp that I expect never to be 
able to hold anything again, except my 
breath, so if you don't hear, you will know 
why. Do write AT ONCE. 

Lots of love, 

Beth. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

U. S. A. T. Sheridan. 

August 13. 
Dearest Girl: 

Here we are, nearly home! We expect 
to see land about five o'clock this after- 
noon and to dock about ten, but we cannot 
land before to-morrow. If it were not 
that Frank, who continues to improve, will 
be much more comfortable on land than 
on the boat, I wouldn't mind if there were 
another month of it, for the last part of 
the trip has been really delightful. We are 
nearly frozen to-day! Every one is shiver- 
ing, even with sweaters and coats on, and 
my nose looks like a bit of tropical sky. 

Honolulu was simply beautiful! The 
most perfect climate and oceans of flowers! 
The natives seem to love flowers too, and 
even teamsters and car conductors wore 
wreaths around their necks and hats. 
I have never seen such masses of flowers 
and such brilliant coloring, as I saw at 
the flower market. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

It was funny to meet our boat people 
with their hats wreathed with roses and 
pinks and big boas to match around their 
necks. They call these boas "leis." For 
fifteen cents Bobby and I invested in two 
beauties made of pink and white carnations 
that hung down below my waist, and on 
him nearly dragged on the ground, and 
for a quarter we bought all the lilies we 
could carry. After we sailed, Frank's 
room was quite a bower, and some of the 
people who took the boat at Honolulu and 
had friends to see them off were entirely 
covered with leis of roses and lilies, car- 
nations, and pansies. 

Mother and Bobby and I took a carriage 
and drove up to the Pali, a hill about six 
miles above the city, where there is a 
stupendous view. I believe it is the home 
of the Father of all the Winds, for it nearly 
blew our ears off! Every minute I ex- 
pected to see Bobby caught up and whirled 
over the precipice, and I was thankful 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

when our united weight was holding the 
carriage down and we had started down hill. 

I am a firm believer in giving the devil 
his due and I feel that it will be on my 
conscience if I don't tell you about the 
Aquarium. 

The guide books told us of the most 
gorgeous fish to be found there — some 
peacock blue and orange, some scarlet 
and gold, and others combining all the 
colors of the rainbow. I promptly rel- 
egated them to the place of green monkeys, 
fat-tailed sheep, and spicy breezes. But it 
was the truth! For once the guide-book 
story could be taken without imagination, 
and the most highly colored post-cards that 
I can find, fail to approach the gorgeous- 
ness of the live fish. 

Well, I must finish my packing. The 
only bad thing about trips is that they 
have to come to an end. It is not at all 
as if we were going home as soon as we 
land! That would be grand and I'll 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

guarantee I'd be the first one down the 
gangplank, but it may be months before 
we set foot on our native heath, and I 
am willing to own that I am not anticipat- 
ing the prospect of boarding in a strange 
city while poor Frank is patched up. 

I am sending you post-cards of Japan 
and a few from Honolulu. I wish I could 
have found a better picture of the hotel 
where we took dinner in Honolulu. It 
is beautiful and the good old United 
States "chow" tasted good! You would 
have smiled to see us drinking great glasses 
of milk with each course, the first we have 
had since we left New York. The dining- 
room is built out over the bay, where they 
have the famous surf-riding. 

Now I must fly. Lots of love to all. 
Do write early and often. I am scared 
stiff about the United States Customs 
at "Frisco." Every one says they are 
something terrible. Lovingly, 

Beth. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

Hotel, San Francisco. 
Dearest Cousin: 

I arose at an indecent hour yesterday 
morning that I might write to you before 
breakfast, as that seemed the only time 
I could count on. My family, however, 
promptly hustled out of their oeds, and by 
the time I was ready to write, they were 
stamping around, declaring that they were 
dying from hunger. I was dragged off 
to breakfast, and my plan fell flat. 

At first much of our time here was given 
over to the Custom House. I divided 
my hours between Frank and the deputy 
inspector, almost to the exclusion of my 
meals. After a little cajoling and un- 
limited — shall we say, prevarication — I 
managed to get all my things through, but 
there was a dreadful time about some big 
chairs that I bought at Bilibid Prison in 
Manila, which either should have been 
declared as baggage or not declared as 
freight, or something. I would gladly 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

have kept quiet concerning them, but as 
they were in crates large enough to ac- 
commodate a grand piano and I had 
heard dreadful tales about confiscation 
of things that were not declared, I came 
out boldly with the truth, whereupon I 
was promptly assessed for ten dollars. I 
was disgusted ! I told the inspector that it 
was the first time in my life I had ever 
spoken the truth in a custom house and 
that it would surely be the last as it ap- 
peared to be a luxury not suited to the 
wife of a first lieutenant! 

I told him that if his conscience allowed 
him he might take my ten dollars and send 
me forth on a life devoted to deceit and 
falsehood. After having duly considered 
the matter he decided that his conscience 
wouldn't stand for it and handed me back 
the money, suggesting, however, that next 
time Td better say nothing, even if the 
articles should be as big as a house! 

After the inspection of my ten trunks, 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

two steamer chairs, bedding roll, one 
hamper, five valises, and fifty-two pieces 
of freight, the next thing on the program 
was to find something in my wrecked 
trunk fit to wear. Everything was covered 
with either mildew or mould, or both, 
and I distributed the clothes around among 
various French laundries and dye-houses. 
They are just beginning to come home now, 
with very indifferent results, and the money 
that I would like to spend in Chinatown 
is disappearing in gasolene and soap. 

I spend half of every day with Frank, 
who is gaining finely. He can stand for 
two or three minutes at a time, but he can- 
not take a step to save his life. His appetite 
is better now that he can go out of his 
room in his wheel-chair and sit in the 
sun-corridors nearly all day. 

About a dozen other officers are at the 
hospital and none of them are too sick 
to enjoy jolly times together. There is 
some talk about sending Frank to Hot 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

Springs, but probably not for some time. 

We have been having a hot wave here 
for nearly a week and how we have en- 
joyed it! The thermometer has been 
at 102° several days, and in some places 
as high as 112 . We are feeling fairly 
thawed out. 

The Knights Templar have been doing 
great stunts here this past week. They 
came from Maine, Massachusetts, Florida, 
Texas, Wyoming, Kentucky, and many 
more States, nearly if not all the States 
being represented. 

Tuesday there was a fine parade by over 
seven thousand knights with gorgeous 
regalias. We were invited to see it from 
one of the best places on the route, where 
all the thirty and more bands began to play 
and the drum-majors did their fancy 
business and the knights marched in their 
best manner, for we were in the Army 
Headquarters Building, and they knew 
the eyes of the regulars were on them. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

They certainly did themselves proud, 
and none looked finer than those from 
Boston ! The enthusiasm was about evenly 
divided between them and the com- 
mandery from Kentucky. Mother and 
I clapped as if we were intimately ac- 
quainted with every knight in the outfit. 
When the band came along with " Bunker 
Hill" in big letters on the bass-drum, the 
crowd simply went wild. It takes these 
Westerners to be patriotic! The decora- 
tions and electric display were magnificent! 

We have been invited to go on the navy 
boat to-morrow to see the launching of 
one of the big warships. 

Bobby sends his love and says he wants 
to see you. He is attending the public 
school here and likes it very much. They 
do not supply books and none of those he 
had would do. The first day, after in- 
vesting over two dollars in books, pens, 
pencils, etc., he had his new twelve-dollar 
overcoat stolen, and I am wondering, had 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

he attended a private school, "would he 
have gained or lost, and how much ?" 
Lots of love, 

Beth. 



Hotel, San Francisco, 

July 26. 
Dearest Cousin: 

Last week I received a letter from you, 
remailed from the Philippines. The snap- 
shots in it were fine of the whole family 
down to dear little Tatters. I have pasted 
them all in my photograph book and we 
enjoy looking at them. 

Frank is doing just splendidly. When 
Mother and I came home yesterday noon 
from a bi-weekly trip to Chinatown whom 
did we find waiting to have luncheon with 
us but Frank! He came in on the cable 
cars, changing cars too — and he looked 
well — better than he has looked since we 
left the States. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

It began to rain in the afternoon, so 
we persuaded him to stay and take dinner 
with us, and I went back with him to the 
hospital. He is in good spirits and I 
am beginning to hope that he may some- 
time be able to go on duty. He is ab- 
solutely dependent on his crutches and 
such a pair of knees I never saw! It 
is a blessed thing that he belongs to the 
United States Cavalry instead of to a 
Highland regiment. 

We were unusually gay last week. We 
went to the Cliff House on Monday, the 
circus on Wednesday, took in "The 
Toreador " Thursday night, and "Fan 
Tan" Saturday afternoon. It was enough 
to make us wish to go all the time, but 
unfortunately there are not many good 
entertainments here. 

I send you by mail one or two little 
things that I picked up for you at different 
places on our trip. I am sorry that I 
bought nothing at Gibraltar, but I saw 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

nothing there that seemed typical of the 
place, and as my means were limited, 
I made up my mind not to buy what I 
really didn't want. Now I wish I had 
invested in some souvenir if it were only 
a glass eye or a wooden leg. 

The Tommy who took us through the 
galleries gave me a piece of his insignia, 
a little lion and unicorn, and I expressed 
such enthusiasm that he promptly ripped 
off the other piece and gave it to me, 
which was exactly what I wanted. I send 
it to you not for its intrinsic worth, which 
I think is about four pence, but simply 
because it came from the island that is 
crowded with rampant lions and unicorns. 

In Malta, I bought for you one of the 
little Maltese crosses. You remember that 
the Mediterranean fleet was there and 
the streets were full of "Jackies" and 
navy officers. Most gorgeous of them 
all were the Queen's Own Highlanders, 
and their finishing touch was the little 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

gold crown on their collars. I asked the 
major, who took us through the barracks, 
to get me two or three of them, and you 
will find yours the dearest thing to fasten 
a four-in-hand tie, and something a little 
out of the common. 

I will send you some more little things 
in a few days. Please give my love to 
everybody, and remember that I don't 
prize your letters less because I happen to 
be on the opposite edge of the same 
continent. 

With a big hug, lovingly, 

Beth. 

Hotel, San Francisco, 

October 18. 
Dearest Coz: 

You may remember that I said I would 
send you some more little things in a few 
days. Believe me, my intentions were of 
the best! 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

After getting the porter (beside whom 
the proprietor appears no larger than a 
thimble) into a good humor by petting his 
ugly old bull-dog, I had at last the felicity 
to see my trunk dug out from under 
fourteen others. Then I hoped that some- 
thing would call him away, as all I wanted 
was a little basket that I bought for you 
at Aden. The baskets were the only 
things from there that survived the soak- 
ing in the Manila flood. The ostrich 
fans I am saving with real New England 
thrift to dust the kitchen stove with. 
The porter seemed to have no interest 
in the world beyond my trunk. I knew 
it was not in the top tray, but I went 
through carefully to gain time while he 
watched me. Nothing doing! I tried 
the second with no better luck, then the 
third. By this time he was beginning 
to regard me with cruel suspicion. I had 
confided to him that I wanted something 
of the utmost importance, which it was 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

imperative I should have at once, never 
supposing that he would be present at 
the opening. 

There was only one more tray and 
no sign of any basket! Only the bottom 
was left, and I stood on my head and dug, 
while he stood over me. I dared not come 
up empty handed and when I had assured 
myself beyond a doubt that the basket 
was not there, I seized a bunch of things, 
tumbled the trays back, and fled! The 
things are spread over the room and when 
Frank came down last night his first words 
were, "Well! this room looks like a rum- 
mage sale," and it does. Heaven only 
knows when I shall have the courage 
to ask for my trunk to put them back. 
The basket, I find by consulting my 
itemized list, is in a chest at the quar- 
termaster's storehouse, at the Presidio. 
Some day you shall have it, so keep up 
good spirits! I will send the other little 
things without it. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

At the pyramids I bought from the guide 
a little chain of bits taken from the tombs. 
He held up both hands and solemnly swore 
that he personally abstracted every piece 
from the tomb of Rameses! I feel sure 
that he spoke the truth because he was 
partial to "Yankees from Boston." 

At Colombo, I bought you a cigarette- 
case — not that I imagine you have taken 
to smoking— as we thought they were 
unique and could be used as card-cases. 
Inside you will find two little elephants 
that are the proper thing in Colombo. 
Elephants everywhere! Stuffed elephants 
— wooden elephants — elephants' legs con- 
verted into umbrella stands — elephants' 
tusks fashioned into chairs and hat racks — 
elephants in every size from fifteen feet 
to a third of an inch. 

In Singapore, I bought a hat pin made 
of the famous moonstones, but never 
make the mistake of trying to puncture 
a hat with it! I bought one myself and 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

know whereof I speak! Mine doubled 
up in a hard knot and I am wearing it 
for a bracelet. As butter picks they would 
be great, if the butter weren't too cold ! 

At Manila, I found absolutely nothing 
except the little shoes that I mailed you 
from there. 

At Nagasaki, on the other hand, I 
wanted everything I saw. Finally I de- 
cided to send you two distinctly Japanese 
things — the dragon, which is found on 
two-thirds of the things, and the three 
little sacred monkeys, which are on the 
other third. After our first day there 
anything that did not show up somewhere 
a dragon or a monkey was promptly 
black-balled! 

At Honolulu, the typical thing seemed 
to be the "leis." The natives do not 
consider themselves dressed without a 
lei of some sort, — flowers, shells, leaves, 
or coral, anything that can be strung. 
So I send you a Honolulu lei with "Aloha," 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

which being interpreted means, "My love 
to you," "How do you do," "Good-bye," 
"God bless our home," "Keep off the 
grass," or in fact anything that seems 
to meet the need. And that brings us 
back to the States again! How I wish 
you could go right over the whole trip 
with me! 

Mother says it is time to turn in, so 
good-night, dear, and all the love that two 
elephants can carry. 

Beth. 



Hotel, San Francisco, 

November 6. 
Dearest Girl: 

Your letter came yesterday. I am glad 
you liked the little things and I only wish 
they might have been the gorgeous objects 
that I longed to buy for you! 

Frank's orders came yesterday by tele- 
graph to "proceed to Hot Springs, Arkan- 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

sas." We shall let him go on ahead 
and hunt up a place for us to stay while 
he is at the hospital, and if he doesn't 
find a satisfactory place, we may go 
straight home from here. 

The weather here now is delightful, 
sunny and warm enough to go without 
wraps. We have come from such a hot 
place that we feel the least bit of cold. 
The rain begins the last of December and 
then we shall be glad to leave! Frank 
continues to improve and although he 
generally carries a cane, he is not dependent 
on it. 

We have jamboree every Saturday night. 
Last night we went to a fine minstrel show 
and then to an interesting Bohemian place 
for crackers and cheese and beer, where 
we stayed until after midnight. There 
seem to be more such places in this town 
than in the entire East and we try a different 
one every week. I think Uncle Sam 
would enjoy some of them. The music 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

is generally very good. The people are 
more interesting than a box of monkeys, — 
miners, who have struck it rich and come 
in to blow off the entire year's savings in 
one week; tourists on their way to the 
East (I mean the Orient) who verily seem 
to smell of Baedeker; native " Friscoans," 
who are often made up and overdressed, 
and who keep the demi monde "guessing" 
to get themselves up more conspicuously; 
long-haired Rubes in from the ranch; 
Germans in droves, from the grandmother 
down to Hans and Fritz! It is as good as 
a play, and the beer is good, and they 
tempt you with all manner of thirst 
producers, and the people sit and eat 
pretzels, radishes, Saratoga chips, young 
onions, and saltines ad libitum, and drink 
until you marvel that they don't burst! 

We have been very busy for a day or 
two having our things packed to go East 
by freight. As the tariff on excess bag- 
gage is simple robbery, we are sending 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

everything we shall not need in the next 
three or four months. Won't it be fun 
unpacking ? 

When you talk about "going home for 
Thanksgiving/' it makes me crazy to 
start. Frank says it would do him more 
good to taste one of Aunt Fanny's far- 
famed turkeys than all the* water at Hot 
Springs. What grand times we have had 
on Thanksgiving! I don't believe any 
other family ever has such good times 
or such a good dinner, and your dinner 
cards have always been the crowning 
touch! I wouldn't part with mine for 
one hundred dollars, and I am dead 
broke, too! I don't dare think about 
home! Once I turn my face to the East, 
the Limited can't carry me half fast 
enough. 

Isn't it hard that I never received the 
letters you sent from Squirrel Island ? 
I would about as soon lose a limb as one of 
your letters. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

Hug yourself for me and give lots of 
love to all "you uns." 

Lovingly, 

Beth. 



Southern Pacific Railroad, 
Monday evening, November 14. 
Dearest Cousin: 

Here we are off for Hot Springs! We 
have intended to let Frank go on ahead 
and make the arrangements, but when his 
final orders came he dreaded going alone. 

We packed in a grand scrabble, took 
a last farewell of Chinatown and made 
our last trip through the dear little Jap- 
anese shops, in consequence of which, 
my suit case is so full that whenever I 
open it, it coughs up a fine assortment 
of tooth-brushes, nail files, hair pins, etc., 
over the aisle. Then Frank, manlike, 
got us down to the railway station fifty 
minutes ahead of time. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

The service at the hotel was perfect, 
yet we were never conscious of the vast 
army of slaves that waited on us until 
we were leaving and saw them draw up 
in columns of four on either side of the 
hall to wish us bon voyage. The scene 
was affecting for many of them must have 
left their several occupations at no small 
inconvenience to pay us this last touching 
tribute. The "touch" cost me the few 
cents that I had heroically kept, in spite 
of Chinks and Japs, to provide myself 
with literature on the train, but I see 
now that my reading will, be confined to 
the Southern Pacific folder. 

We were more than lucky about our 
baggage. Ordinarily one is allowed only 
one hundred and fifty pounds and as each 
of my three trunks weighed over two hun- 
dred pounds, I could foresee trouble. But 
they have a charming rule. People who 
make the grand tour are allowed three 
hundred fifty apiece and Frank secured 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

three hundred fifty on Bobby's half ticket, 
so we had fourteen hundred pounds 
allowance; and our seven trunks, Frank's 
bedding-roll and my Singapore chair, all 
came in just under it. 

I believe that this road has been cruelly 
maligned. To be sure the Tunis, our 
sleeper, is not one of the newest Pullmans. 
On the contrary, Frank says it must be on 
its way to the St. Louis Fair as a model 
of the first car that Pullman made out 
in his barn, but really it is not bad! 

As the train is made up at San Francisco, 
we were supposed to start promptly at 
5.45, but we did not start until six, giving 
us an extra fifteen minutes to wait. Now 
that we are really off, we are running as 
smoothly as if we were on a boulevard, 
though Frank says it is due to the fact that 
we aren't making an inch over three miles 
an hour. Frank is prejudiced! 

It is time to turn in. I must climb into 
the top berth, as Mother and Bobby have 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

one lower berth and Frank the other, and 
as I have seen the step-ladder, I am filled 
with misgivings. It is weak in the hind 
legs, and collapsed in a dismal heap with 
the porter while he was dallying with the 
Pinsch lights. He mended it with a 
piece of tender pink string, but I notice 
he didn't trust his precious self to it again. 
If I write no more, you may know that I 
am laid up with a broken neck, or leg, or 
something ! 

Frank has returned from the smoking 
car to say that we are an hour late at 
Gilroy. Never mind ! We have from now 
until five o'clock Wednesday to make it up. 
At that time we connect with the Texas 
Pacific at El Paso. 

Good-night! It is good to know that 
every minute brings me nearer you. 

The "Tunis," Tuesday evening. 
Dear Bess: 

I wish I had had sense enough to bring 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

my camera. We are now in the desert, 
and as far as one can see, there is nothing 
but sand and cacti, — perfectly straight 
cacties, as tall as a house, like a crop of 
fuzzy telegraph poles! 

The country is desolate, and it is as like 
the country between Port Said and Cairo 
as two peas, only there we saw an oc- 
casional camel, and here there is nothing 
more enlivening than a dead cow, now 
and then, to break the monotony! 

Instead of making up an hour during 
the night we were two hours late this 
morning. We went into the dining-car 
for breakfast, which was very nice, but 
costly! Oranges twenty cents apiece, eggs 
twenty cents, and steak, one dollar fifty, 
and of course we were hungry. I could 
have eaten two oranges, six eggs, and two 
orders of steak with relish, if I had not 
foreseen that I might have to subsist on 
cold cream for the rest of the trip. 

We were due at Los Angeles at noon and 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

we decided to have luncheon there and save 
all kinds of money, but at eleven o'clock 
we ran up to a wreck on the track, and as 
there is but one track on the Southern 
Pacific Railroad it made things awkward. 
We were forced to wait while the engine 
of the wrecked train went on ahead to Los 
Angeles for a wrecking train, which came 
back, picked the cars up bit by bit, and 
removed them from the track. We waited 
in a half-famished condition until half- 
past two o'clock rather than submit to 
highway robbery in the dining-car. Then 
Frank and I (Mother and Bobby had gone 
to watch the wrecking train) made a 
break for it, determined to eat even if 
we had to pawn our watches. We found 
that there was nothing doing in the "Eat 
Car," as they were dependent on Los 
Angeles for provisions. Finally, however, 
rather than have us die on his hands, the 
haughty head-waiter agreed on receipt 
of Frank's December pay-voucher to give 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

us two ham sandwiches and two bottles 
of beer, which we gobbled, all same Esau, 
with hearts full of thankfulness. 

In the meantime Mother and Bobby 
bargained with a cattle puncher, who 
arrived on the scene from the nearest 
ranch, for some stale bread and two hard 
boiled eggs at fifty cents each, not ostrich 
eggs either! 

Here fortune smiled on us again, for the 
beer upset Frank's stomach so that he 
wanted no dinner, but I had no such luck 
and could have eaten hash. 

We are five hours late to-night and I 
am beginning to wonder if we can make 
it up before we reach El Paso. The con- 
ductor encourages us to hope that the 
Texas and Pacific will wait for us unless 
we are too late. It seems to be a question 
now of what they consider "too late." 

Well, I must go to roost! May heaven 
preserve me and the hind legs of that 
ladder. 

275 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

Wednesday night. 
Dear Girl: 

Here we are at El Paso, but the Texas 
and Pacific didn't wait! Can you imagine 
such lack of consideration in the South 
where one is mis-led to expect much, and 
after we had been making up time for the 
last twenty-four hours and were only four 
hours and thirty-five minutes late any- 
way ? When do you suppose the next train 
leaves for Benton where we change for 
Hot Springs ? To-morrow night at seven 
o'clock ! At first we were nearly prostrated, 
not as much because it would mean a 
whole day in El Paso and another night 
on the train, but because it gave our 
faith in southern chivalry a dreadful 
jolt. 

Frank and I went ashore and looked 
over El Paso. It is a fine place if one is 
staying merely long enough to coal up 
but for any longer stay, Frank has pro- 
nounced it a devilish Hole! A big con- 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

vention has now brought men there from 
all over the country, interested in irrigation. 
The streets are decorated with flags and 
bunting and electric lights, and all the 
bar-rooms, which constitute more than 
half the town, bear the legend, "Come 
in and Irrigate. " Judging from the dele- 
gates we have met, I think they are doing 
their best for irrigation. Much is planned 
for their entertainment. To-morrow after- 
noon there is to be a grand bull-fight at 
Juarez, Mexico, a place distant a ten- 
minutes' ride on the electric cars, which 
boasts the largest bull-ring in Mexico. 
Then at Washington Park there is to be 
an exhibition of steer-roping and bronco- 
busting, to say nothing of a foot-ball game. 
Some fascinating shop windows were 
filled with Mexican curios, but as soon as 
I discovered them, Frank was seized with a 
pain in his leg and insisted on returning 
to the car instantly. Nevertheless if I 
am spared until morning I shall go straight 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

back to them. Now for my aerie perch. 

The dining-car has gone gaily on to 
New Orleans leaving us to the tender 
mercies of El Paso. We shall have to 
tumble out early to get a bite before the 
Irrigators have gobbled everything, and 
then me for the shops ! 

The porter has invited me to occupy 
a lower berth to-night as there are only 
eight passengers. I judge that the step- 
ladder is out of commission. 

Good-night. 

The Tunis, El Paso. 

Thursday evening. 
Dearest Cousin: 

Did I say we should leave here at seven 
o'clock ? That was a foolish mistake. 
We were only scheduled to leave at seven, 
we really left about nine! For the last 
two hours, we have switched up and down 
the track, in sight of the very shops where 
I fain would do a last errand and yet 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

afraid to leave the car for fear it might 
take a notion to start. At last we are off 
and soon El Paso will be only an irrigated 
memory. 

To go back to this morning! We 
hustled out about eight o'clock and made 
our shivering way through the cold gray 
dawn to the nearest hotel. We met Mexi- 
cans in their broad-brimmed, high-peaked 
hats, their long black capes wrapped 
around them up to the ears. There 
are only two hotels of any importance 
and we chose the first, merely to go in 
where it was warm. Unfortunately, in 
my effort to blot out the whole awful meal, 
I have forgotten its name, but if ever you 
have the misfortune to find yourself in 
El Paso, avoid it. Our waiter was colored 
and so was his apron, but not originally. 
It looked like a brief record of the meals 
served during the past year. After my 
orange, he brought me a large finger-bowl 
containing a fluid that resembled fish- 

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chowder, owing perhaps to the fact that 
six cattle punchers and four "irrigators" 
had taken their morning dip in it before it 
reached me. The thickness of the china 
did its best to make amends for the cream, 
and the coffee was worse than Postum — 
nothing more can be said. 

Mother, Bobby and I sought relief in 
shopping, while poor Frank returned to 
the Tunis to wrestle with indigestion. 

We found many attractive things, but 
all fearfully expensive, so we decided to 
take a look at the shops in Mexico. By 
this time the sun was out and we were 
roasting in our coats. The sun at El Paso 
works only from ten to five, but it puts a 
good day's work into those seven hours. 

In Jaurez we hunted up the jail first, 
not because we had friends there but 
because we had been told that the inmates 
made very pretty baskets. We were es- 
corted by about a dozen guards and 
policemen to the chief officer, a Mighty 

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Being encrusted with gold lace, who as- 
sured us that they did not and never had, 
and never would make baskets in his jail. 
Probably we had in mind the prison in 
some distant Mexican town, which we had 
never even heard of. 

The next thing to "do" was the old 
Mexican church built in something B. C, 
but up to date enough as to the floor, which 
had just received a coat of shellac and 
came near holding our attention the rest 
of the day! 

The shops were great and I don't 
know where we should have stopped 
had we not been previously warned that 
we might have to pay duty on anything 
purchased in Mexico. Mother bought a 
little Mexican blanket woven like the 
Mexican flag. She hesitated to take it 
until the shop man explained that there 
is no duty on anything costing a dollar 
or less, and then, as this was just a dollar, 
she yielded. 

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I found a big Mexican basket the size 
of a coal hod that I felt would make life 
one long sweet dream, even if I had to 
carry it in my arms all the way to Hot 
Springs. As I couldn't make the shop 
woman understand that she must let me 
have it for a dollar in order to avoid 
duty — she was most obtuse! — I had to 
ante up one dollar and fifty cents. I 
bought also several pieces of Mexican lace, 
which, as I am slender (don't read that 
skinny), I was able to secrete about my 
person and only increase my natural 
charm. 

We suddenly discovered that we had 
only ten minutes to go to the hotel where 
we were to meet Frank and have luncheon, 
so we hurried to the corner where the 
cars pass and proceeded to wait. Several 
passed us, all going in the wrong direction. 
I began to think that Frank might not wait. 
More cars passed, all coming from El 
Paso, but none returning. Finally I in- 

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quired at a shop how often the cars went 
to El Paso. "Every ten minutes," replied 
the shopkeeper. "But we have waited 
at least twenty and not one has gone in 
the right direction," I exclaimed. "Oh," 
he replied, "this is a belt line. All the 
cars go the same way, but any one will 
take you to El Paso in ten minutes!" 
We took the next car all right! 

When we reached the bridge that con- 
nects Mexico with El Paso, the custom 
inspector came aboard the car, which was 
quite crowded, to look for dutiable goods. 
Mother and I were thankful that we 
had nothing to fear. In fact, I was quite 
puffed up with pride — and Mexican lace — 
in my innocence! 

When he came to us, he pointed to 
my basket and asked what it was. I 
said, "That! Oh, that's a little basket I 
bought for a dollar." (I had my fingers 
crossed and said, "and fifty cents," to 
myself.) "Oh, that's all right," he said. 

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Then he turned to Mother's parcel, "What 
is that ?" Mother, not to be outdone in 
prevarication, said, "Oh, that's a little 
flag I bought for a dollar !" Mother 
never could tell lies gracefully, and he 
immediately pounced upon the parcel 
and undid it. Then he regarded her with 
sad, reproachful eyes and said, "Madam! 
this is not a flag, it is a blanket. I will 
trouble you to leave the car and come to 
my office." In vain Mother protested 
that a thing two and a half feet long by 
one and a half wide could not constitute 
a blanket. In vain she called his attention 
to the design and to the price! Nothing 
doing! And there before the whole car- 
load we had to get out and go to the 
office. 

I was still "chesty," but not with pride. 
I never saw Mother so vexed. She wanted 
to go back to tell the shopkeeper what 
she thought of him, but I pointed out to her 
that in the few hours before the train was 

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to leave, she couldn't do the subject 
justice. She offered to send it back but 
the deputy wouldn't hear of it. He 
weighed it, and measured it, and wrote 
pages about it in different books, and 
finally said it would be fifty cents. It 
was like pulling teeth for Mother to separate 
herself from that half-dollar, but the car 
was coming and it had to be done. I 
laughed until I was too weak to sit up, 
and every time Mother's eyes lighted on 
my beauty basket she launched forth 
afresh on what she thought of the shop 
keeper, the custom house and the deputy! 
She still contends that it is a flag and not 
a blanket. 

Of course, by the time we finally landed 
at the hotel, Frank was not there, and 
it took me over an hour to find him. 

After luncheon, which we partook of 
at the other hotel — roast beef in a hollow 
square of birds' bath tubs — we went to 
see the "roping, breaking," etc., at 

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Washington Park, as the bull fight was 
not until four-thirty. The way they 
roped the steers was simply thrilling. 
They let one steer out of the corral at a 
time, and a cowboy would go after it on 
a little bronco and lasso it. Maybe 
those steers can't travel! Mother insisted 
on shouting, to the intense gratification 
of the whole grandstand, "Look at that 
cow! Can't she run though!" 

The bucking was like the pictures of it, 
only more so. I supposed they bucked 
occasionally just to catch the rider off his 
guard, but they buck so fast you couldn't 
begin to count it. That the cowboys 
stick on and are not injured for life after 
the first three seconds is purely a miracle! 
During the whole exhibition, only one was 
thrown, and he picked himself up and 
walked off as if it were a mere nothing! 
It was over about four o'clock and I 
thought we would arrive at the bull fight 
just in time, but there was such a stampede 

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for the waiting cars that we decided to 
wait for the next one. We waited and 
waited! At four-thirty we began to ask 
questions and were assured that the cars 
ran every half hour. At five o'clock, the 
sun finished and went home, leaving it cold 
enough to f rapper us! Walking was out 
of the question as we were five miles from 
town. At five-fifteen the car arrived and 
we simply fell over ourselves getting on, 
but as the motorman evidently had a 
date to play a game of billards with the 
"gent" who owns the saloon in the waiting 
station, we sat and listened to our chat- 
tering teeth and watched the stars come 
out and wondered if we could make the 
Tunis by seven o'clock, or have to spend 
another day in dear El Paso! 

At five-thirty we started, but we had not 
gone far when we met another car. As 
we were on a single track, it necessitated 
a long-winded debate on the part of both 
motormen, at the end of which our man, 

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not as blessed with rhetoric as the other, 
backed us up the road to a turn-out 
where we waited and let the other car pass. 
I shall never forget that trip, if I ever 
live to get over the cold I have taken. 
It was as dark as the inside of a cow and 
as cold as a tomb. The passengers con- 
sisted mainly of cowboys, who are, I 
discovered, vastly more interesting and 
enjoyable at a distance, breaking steers, 
than at short range, chewing tobacco. 
Think of missing that bull fight! While 
I was hunting for Frank this noon, the 
matadors in all their gorgeousness marched 
through the streets with a brass band. 
Worst of all, I went into a shop and in- 
vested in a number of lurid postcards, 
depicting all the various blood-curdling 
stages of the bull fight, to add to my 
collection of "things I have seen on the 
trip" and now they have all soured on 
my hands. 

We had no time to hunt up a third 

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hotel, when at last, frozen and weary, 
we reached El Paso, and as the other 
two were not to be thought of, we stum- 
bled into a little Chinese restaurant, most 
unprepossessing, but standing between us 
and starvation, where they advertised 
"Dinner 50 cents." And such a dinner! 
Everything was well served and delicious! 
I have never in my life eaten such fried 
chicken! We had to swallow it whole 
and sprint for the train, and then we had 
the felicity of sitting here, almost within 
sight and smell of that fried chicken, 
for two mortal hours! 

I am beginning to feel more resigned 
that we did not go to the bull fight, for 
two gentlemen on the train, who went, 
say it was disgusting! The bulls killed 
seven half-dead horses before they in turn 
were dispatched by the matadors. None 
of that for me ! 

We are really on the way to Benton 
and if it were not for my basket and my 

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snuffles I could believe that I dreamed 
about El Paso. 

The "Tunis/' T. & P. 

Friday. 
Dear Bess: 

Well, here we are still pounding away 
through Texas and I am learning more 
geography to the square inch than I ever 
knew before. 

Texas is not attractive as viewed from 
the car-window. There are no more tall 
cacti, but quantities of the prickly, flat, 
mitten-shaped kind, that Kipling says 
the elephant child's mother used to spank 
him with. If my hands were not already 
full with my Mexican basket and suit- 
case, I should lay in a supply for future 
use. I wanted Bobby to carry a bunch, 
but he seemed uninterested. 

There are cotton-fields and grazing 
land and more cotton-fields, and the 
railway station with its satellite saloons, 

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the store, more cotton-fields, and so on, 
ad libitum. Not a bird, not a flower, 
and not a tree worthy the name! 

The conductor has just been through 
the car to say that we stop twenty minutes 

at B for dinner, or we can lunch 

from the buffet-car. Having tried the 
buffet-car for breakfast, we begged him 
to enroll our names upon the list of diners 
atB . 

Saturday. 

We are surely seeing the world! We 
missed the bull fight at Juarez, but we 
have just been the victims of a fearful 
Texas "hold up." 

When the train pulled in at B 

(two hours late), we little knew what 
awaited us, or nothing could have dragged 
us, alive, from the "Tunis." Not blessed 
with second-sight, we walked, yes, galloped, 
blindly to our fate! Before we knew it, 
we found ourselves in an awful place 

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bearing the suggestive motto "Eating 
House" over the door. 

The long tables were covered with 
dishes containing hash, here and there 
interspersed with slabs of pie and mounds 
of anaemic beans! Talk about fifteen 
kinds of pie in New England! It is 
certainly more to be desired than fifteen 
varieties of hash in Texas! There was 
bilious hash, light brown hash, dark 
brown hash, cinnamon brown hash, seal 
brown hash, pink hash, yellow hash, and 
HASH! 

No one said, "Please pass me the corned 
beef hash," or "Kindly hustle the fish 
hash." They took no chances. It was 
"Give me the red hash," or "the yellow 
hash," as the case might be. 

The pumpkin pie looked so much like 
triangular chunks of Mariquina mud 
that I was ready to weep with home- 
sickness. The butter was a gorgeous 
shade of burnt orange, and our neighbors 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

helped themselves to it with their own 
knives in a way that made us feel as if 
we were at a picnic. The gentleman 
who sat opposite me did the most remark- 
able work with his knife that I have ever 
witnessed, and when he arose from the 
table, alive and well, I felt that he had the 
sword-swallower done to a finish! 

I secured a small green apple which 
proved to be occupied by a fat white 
worm. Then I departed while I could 
leave with dignity, and poor Frank was 
held up at the door for four dollars. 
Doesn't it seem awful to think that such 
things are going on in a civilized country! 
I am going to try to interest the Women's 
Auxiliary in sending a missionary to 

B . There is a grand field for one, 

as also for doctors and undertakers. 

We shall take our supper on the train 
if it is only a cake of soap, but I feel now 
as if I should never touch food again, espe- 
cially HASH! 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

The " Tunis," T. & P. 
Friday night. 
My Dear: 

We have just left Fort Worth, happy in 
the possession of six doughnuts and two 
bottles of beer. We took no chances 
on another hold up, and procured our 
supper from the buffet. It was not what 
you might call sumptuous, as they were 
"just out" of bread and cocoa and eggs 
and a few other trifles. Then, when we 
reached Fort Worth, we found the most 
appetizing lunch counter loaded with all 
manner of good things. Was there ever 
such luck ! 

While Frank went down a back street 
hunting for beer — in Texas every one drinks 
whiskey — I led Mother and Bobby through 
various rooms in the station to an out- 
of-the-way place filled with "cullered 
pussuns!" I had no wish to be there, 
but I was making frantic and ineffectual 
efforts to go back to the "Tunis" with my 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

doughnuts. It was evidently a waiting- 
room and I began to wonder if Fort 
Worth were exclusively a colored set- 
tlement. Some of the dark clouds even 
went as far as to laugh at us. At last 
by a miracle I found a door that let us 
out into the main station, and looking 
back I discovered a sign over the door 
in letters a foot high, "Waiting-Room 
Colored!" 

To-morrow we may reach Hot Springs 
but it is as well not to expect too much of 
the T. & P. We are two hours and a 
quarter late! 

Hot Springs, Arkansas. 
Saturday, November 19. 
Dear Girl: 

Here we are at last! We were supposed 
to connect with the St. Louis Iron Moun- 
tain and Southern Railway at Benton, 
early this morning, but owing to some 
trifling hitch, we were two hours and a half 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

late, and the train did not wait. We were 
already disillusionized in regard to Southern 
chivalry, but still it hurt; and when we 
asked the conductor about the next train 
for Hot Springs, we found that it would 
not leave before evening. 

I decided to start for Hot Springs 
even if we had to walk. Benton was the 
limit, the very extreme end of the exten- 
sion! I know now why every one who 
hails from Arkansas always says, when 
asked where his home is, "Arkansas! 
Now laugh ! Damn you !" 

But for once fortune smiled and we 
had waited only about half an hour when 
a train pulled in. Nobody seemed to 
know where it came from or when it 
was due but they were certain it was 
going to Hot Springs, and we lost no 
time in climbing aboard. After a time 
we discovered that we were in the second- 
class car, but even that was Heaven, 
compared to Benton! 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

On arriving at Hot Springs we hunted 
up a small boarding-house, where many 
army people stay, and we were fortunate 
enough to find rooms. Mother has a 
big, sunny room and I have a nice room 
with a little one opening out of it for 
Bobby. 

Charming people are staying here, and 
Frank can take his meals with us. He 
is delighted with his room at the hospital 
and I think we shall all do very well. 

I am afraid I cannot send this by mail 
if I write another word and yet I am long- 
ing to tell you what a queer place it is. 
Walking down the main street you would 
certainly think that the place had been re- 
cently visited by a devastating earthquake 
or cyclone, for of all the banged-up lot of 
people I have ever seen, these are the 
worst ! 

Mother and I seem to be almost the 
only ones blessed with two good legs. 
Two-thirds of the people walk with canes 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

and the rest go on crutches or in wheel- 
chairs. 

The form of greeting is not "How 
do you do ?" but "How is your leg?" 
or "How is your knee?" They all carry 
those horrid little collapsible cups and 
stop at every spring or fountain to guzzle 
down a cup of water at one hundred and 
forty degrees. They ask you if you have 
had your bath with no more hesitation 
than we should feel in inquiring, "Have 
you been to tea ?" 

I will have mercy now and stop. Do 
write often. 

Love to all, 

From Beth. 

P. S. Frank has just discovered that 
a Captain Goodrich, whom he knew in 
the Philippines in '98, is staying at the 
hospital. He is very nice and it will 
make it pleasant for Frank ! 



298 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

Hot Springs, Arkansas. 

November 23. 
Dearest Cousin: 

If you would rescue me from drowning, 
send me a letter at once! Every one has 
insisted that I should drink the water 
while staying here for there is absolutely 
nothing else to do! I have begun with 
half-gallon bottles, but expect soon to 
increase the amount unless I have some- 
thing to divert my mind. Early every 
morning, a red-headed youth deposits 
the water at my door and until I am out- 
side of the last drop my conscience gives 
me no peace. 

At some of the hotels they have a 
system of bells that are rung to let the 
victims know when to begin to guzzle 
and when to stop, but we have no bell 
ringers and if not diverted we drink with- 
out a pause, except to cough or call for 
more water. 

When I began I did it merely to fill 

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up time — and space — but now that the 
habit is formed, my first thought on 
waking is Water, two glasses before break- 
fast, and my last thought at night is 
water, two glasses before retiring, to say 
nothing of the numerous glasses to be 
consumed before and after each meal 
during the day. 

I am perfectly confident that the hotel 
proprietors are all in cahoots with the 
spring-water men, for you can readily 
see that after a person has drunk water 
until it is on a level with his back teeth, 
he is in no condition to put in a hearty 
meal! Yet here we sit and drink and 
drink, knowing that at dinner we can only 
shake our heads sorrowfully at the roast 
pork and beaten biscuit. Some people 
even arise during the night watches and 
drain half a dozen glasses, but I shall not 
be in their class before next week! At 
the present writing there is more water in 
my system than in the Tanks at Aden, 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

and yet I fain would have another glass! 
I shall have water on the brain and I beg 
of you to save me before I have to be 
rolled on a barrel. 

I have just heard the man deliver another 
half-gallon at my door, and I go where 
duty calls. 

Your much diluted cousin, 
Beth. 

Sunday, February 12. 
Dearest Girl: 

Just a line to let you know that I am 
partly alive! Your letter found me in 
bed with the grip, and I feel sick enough 
to be there now, only it makes too much 
work. Bobby has had two attacks of it 
since Christmas and Mother has had a 
bad cough, managing to keep up only by 
a conscientious use of "Brown Mixture." 

Every one is ill here! Frank has a 
terrific cold on his lungs, and his general 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

health is not nearly as good as in San 
Francisco. It thoroughly disagrees with 
us all in this abominable place and you 
must forgive me if I let out a yowl from the 
tomb, for you are my unfortunate safety 
valve! If I couldn't sit down and write 
to you when I have reached this point, 
I should certainly explode! which might 
be all kinds of luck for you. 

Did I tell you that we had to take 
Bobby out of school before Christmas ? 
The doctor advised it as there were sev- 
eral cases of diphtheria, eighteen cases of 
scarlet fever, also thirty cases of small-pox 
and some measles. Over half the children 
in Bobby's room were at home sick. There 
has been a regular epidemic of grip here 
and what wonder! We have had only 
four pleasant days! The rest of the time 
it has snowed, rained, hailed, and sleeted, 
and tried combinations of all four, until 
we are on the verge of insanity! Frank 
became so desperate that he wrote the 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

War Department and asked for duty, 
anything to get away from here! 

We have nearly died with the cold! 
This house might do very well in the 
tropics, but it is all to the bad in a tem- 
perature of under seventy degrees. By 
burning night and day a horrid little kero- 
sene stove, which goes all the smells at Aden 
one better, and by wearing a sweater, thick 
leggings and earlaps, I have thus far es- 
caped frost-bite, but it has been a close 

call. 

I am losing all the fatness that I acquired 

at Hotel C , and which I prized 

beyond jewels and fine gold. I lost 
seven pounds before I had the grip and 
only Heaven knows how much since! 
At present there is nothing left to lose 
but my skin, and then!— a puff of air, and 
— Nothing! 

I am literally starving to death! This 
hog and hominy will not down! I am 
so tired of having it twenty-one times a 

3°3 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

week, that my stomach fairly turns somer- 
sets at the picture of a pig! 

The trouble must be with me for many 
people who come here rave about the table 
and think these Southern dishes are fine! 
I have a distinctly Northern stomach! 
The far-famed beaten biscuit is to me a 
poor imitation of a common cracker and 
nothing more! 

I am sitting on the register from whose 
luke-warm breath I can foretell that 
to-night we are to be regaled on a dish 
appetizingly known as hog belly — Ugh! 
At my side is the kerosene stove pouring 
forth one part heat to ten parts smell 
and in spite of my red woollen mittens 
I think two of my fingers are touched. 

Adieu — while I thaw out! Your half- 
starved and wholly frozen 

Beth. 



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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

Hot Springs, Arkansas, February 26. 
Dearest: 

You may possibly have gathered from 
the newspaper I sent you, that it has been 
decidedly warmer here — in spots! 

About daybreak yesterday morning, I 
awoke from a sweet dream of peace, to 
the horrible conviction that my bed was 
on fire, and the way I jumped out of it 
was a caution! After prying my eyes 
open and making a closer examination, 
the fire proved to be two or three blocks 
away, but everything was so lurid from 
the reflection that it seemed much nearer. 
Bobby and I hustled into our togs and lost 
no time in sprinting to the scene of action! 

It was an appalling sight! The fire 
spread so rapidly that it was worse than 
useless for the fire department to try 
to save anything, and before we had 
been there ten minutes, we saw ten or a 
dozen houses burned to the ground. 

The proprietor of the large hotel just 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

below us notified his guests (there were 
over a thousand) that they had better 
be prepared to leave at short notice and 
it was as good as a circus to see them. 
One portly dame was sitting on her trunk 
in her robe-de-nuit, wearing a large white 
picture hat bedecked with ostrich feathers. 
Some of the guests had donned their 
gladdest rags and looked as if they were 
on the wing to a swell reception! Others, 
and I think the larger number, appeared 
clutching their bathwraps about them with 
one hand, the other holding a grinning 
set of grinders, evidently afraid to put them 
where they belonged lest in their haste they 
should swallow them! Such a variety 
of bathwraps I never supposed existed — 
every color and every shade, in plain 
colors, plaids, checks, and stripes, polka- 
dotted and gaily bordered, with hoods 
and without, of flannel, turkish towelling 
and blankets. There was a duplicate 
for every bathwrap in the world. 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

The fire department made more than 
a dozen vain attempts to blow up houses 
in the path of the fire, by throwing stick 
dynamite into them. Several lines of 
hose were manned by natives, and their 
system of fire-fighting was unique! Some 
one up the street shouted, "Here, you 
fellows, Joe says to bring that hose over 
to his house/' and with cheerful alacrity 
they hustled over to Joe's. Before they 
had had time fully to drench anything 
but the piano on the porch and Joe, 
who appeared inopportunely at his front 
door, a yell was raised, "Say! Bill says 
he wants that hose over to his house 
quick!" and over it went, incidentally 
knocking down old ladies, bearing Rogers' 
groups and crayon portraits of Pa and Ma 
to a place of safety, all with a charming 
disregard for the particular location or 
direction of the fire. 

I was deeply interested in seeing what 
different people saved, as most precious 

3°7 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

among their Lares and Penates. Even 
the fortunate had hardly time to save 
more than one armful, and they had to 
choose quickly. The pet dog won first 
place every time, although he probably 
would have found his way to safety had he 
been allowed free use of his legs. Much 
beruffled sofa pillows had a hard race with 
ornate parlor lamps for second place. 
One woman, seeing that her house was 
doomed, made a mad rush inside and 
returned triumphant with two cans of corn 
and a package of Force! The owners 
of Force should know this. Imagine 
the advertising to be derived from this 
single fact. It would beat Sunny Jim 
to death! One poor woman who had time 
for only one flying trip reappeared, carry- 
ing a book. I was wild to see what piece 
of literature she had considered valuable 
beyond all her worldly goods to be a 
comfort to her in her adversity. I bet 
on the family Bible, as winner, with Mrs. 

3 o8 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

Eddy's Science and Health, for place, 
and the cook-book for show, but you will 
never guess what it was — The Johnstown 
Disaster! Misery surely likes company! 

Frank was in his element! Though I 
fear that remark sounds a little devilish! 
He rushed in and saved a valuable horse 
that was tied in a burning stable, and 
he attempted to save a baby, whose 
mother, in trying to save time, had brought 
out the parlor clock instead of the infant. 
After she had worked every one into a 
frenzy, it developed that some other inmate 
of the house had rescued the baby and a 
tin slop-pail, and had them both at a 
safe distance from the flames. 

The owners of the race-track promptly 
demonstrated that there is good in all 
things by throwing open their immense 
grandstand to hundreds of homeless people, 
who otherwise could not possibly have 
found shelter. As it is enclosed, the front 
being of glass, and heated, and as the people 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

were supplied by the management with 
unlimited hot coffee and sandwiches, it 
made a very good temporary home. 

You will doubtless be proud to hear 
that on Washington's Birthday, I forced 
a wedge into the Social Four Hundred of 
Hot Springs, by attending the annual 
Colonial Ball with Frank and Captain 
Goodrich. It was a beautiful sight and 
many notable persons were present. There 
was the "ten thousand dollar beauty," 
who travelled with Barnum for years, 
also a lady who has ridden elephants 
before all the Crowned Heads of Europe. 
Then there was a buxom maiden, who, 
before she met a certain book-maker 
who "hit it rich," acted as "hash slinger" 
in a Cincinnati restaurant (course dinner 
25 cents). Her general appearance was 
not exactly patrician, and yet there was 
something very winning in the unconscious 
way she bore her dance-order on her 
upturned palm! 

3JO 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

They chewed gum to the music with a 
certain rhythm that seemed the very poetry 
of motion! I was not able to secure an 
introduction to any one of note, but then, 
I cannot expect to break in with an axe! 

On the way home, Frank and two 
other officers took me into one of the 
gambling clubs, as I was simply crazy 
to see what it was like. "Ladies" do 
not play until late in the evening, and 
we found most of the tables filled. The 
rooms were gorgeous with gilding and 
sparkled with innumerable lights, and the 
ladies were beautifully gowned. To my 
surprise it was as quiet and orderly as a 
Friday evening meeting, and no one 
seemed in the least excited. They would 
put up two or three gold pieces and watch 
the result with considerably less interest 
than I should had I ventured a cent with 
a hole in it. 

I noticed particularly two ladies who 
were playing roulette. They were having 

3 11 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

the cosiest chat together, scarcely turning 
their heads to watch the wheel, except 
when the croupier raked in their money 
and motioned to them that it was time 
to ante up again. This they did without 
a moment's hesitation, doling it out as 
if it were so much chicken-feed, and 
instantly returning to their conversation. 
They watched it with not one thousandth 
part of the anxiety that I was feeling. 
It seemed as if I must touch one of them 
on the shoulder and say, "Pardon me, 
Madam, but do you realize that you 
have already lost twenty-five dollars on the 
number fifteen !" 

As we stood near them, I couldn't 
help overhearing part of their conversation. 
One, who was in deepest mourning, said, 
"I am expecting to stay here but two 
weeks longer, as it doesn't agree with 
Reginald." The other lady expressed deep 
concern, and she continued, "You see, 
for a year before Henry died, he had to 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

use a crutch and he often struck poor 
Reggie. Now the little dear is so nervous 
when he sees any one with a crutch that 
it is simply pathetic! You can imagine 
how a place like this would get on his 
nerves !" The other lady sympathetical- 
ly murmured something about, "Cruel 
shame !" "Yes," added Henry's wife, "I 
have Marie take him to walk up on the 
mountain every morning as he doesn't 
stand so much chance of meeting horrid 
cripples there." At this point the croupier 
pushed a bunch of money in her direction 
that fairly took my breath away! And 
Frank, thinking that the sight might be 
too much for my moral stamina, immedi- 
ately discovered a pain in his leg, and 
nothing would do but we must go home at 
once ! I couldn't sleep, pitying poor abused 
Reggie and wondering how much there 
was in the pile his mother won, and if she 
stayed and lost it all after we came home. 
This morning Bobby and I betook 

3*3 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

ourselves to the mountain to take some 
pictures and I think we got some beauties, 
which I will send you. We saw a spot 
a little further up the hill that looked 
ideal for a snapshot and were making our 
way toward it, Bobby carrying the camera 
and I dragging the tripod, when suddenly, 
there was the most blood-curdling growl 
right at my heels. I halted with such 
suddenness that I nearly lost my balance. 
You know how afraid I am of a dog, 
and I dared not move an eyelash! I 
could hear the breathing of the ferocious 
beast, and the growls grew more savage 
every minute. Fortunately, Bobby was 
ahead and I had presence of mind enough 
to scream to him to jump up on a bench 
that was near. The growling ceased for 
a minute. Cautiously I lifted one foot 
and was about to try a step forward, when 
the dog snapped. I continued to stand 
on one leg not daring even to put my foot 
to the ground. 

3*4 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

There was no one in front to call to 
for assistance and I decided, summoning 
all my courage, to turn my head and 
see if any one was coming. I turned, 
very slowly, you may be sure, and I was 
relieved to see a white-capped maid climb- 
ing breathlessly up the path in my direction, 
while growling savagely and regarding 
my innocent tripod with blazing eyes, 
was the most evil-looking wapper-jawed 
bull dog you can possibly conceive of, 
showing all his teeth, with every hair 
on his back standing at "Attention!" 
I wanted to say, "Good old Towser," 
or something equally inane and con- 
ciliatory, but like iEneas, "My tongue 
clove to the roof of my mouth/' and I 
couldn't let out the tiniest squeak! At 
last the maid arrived, puffing and dis- 
hevelled; stooping down she folded the 
horrid brute in her arms and gasped — 
"There! There! Did he think it was 
another nasty crutch! Well, it's all right, 

3*5 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

my Pettie. Nobody shall hurt dear little 
Reggie!" 

And that was Reginald! 

The odor of pork and grits is gently 
wafted in through my transom, so it 
behooves me to prepare myself for the 
eightieth consecutive appearance of "hog 
and hominy." 

Yours lovingly, 

Beth. 



Hot Springs, Arkansas. 

March 25. 
Dearest: 

Hurray! We're coming home! Mother 
and Frank are arranging the final details, 
and probably it will be the last of this 
week or the first of next. 

That is not all! Captain Goodrich 
is coming with us. At least, he has asked 
for a leave and if it comes in time, he will 
go North when we go. Such a small 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

thing has brought it all to pass, — yes, 
very small indeed, dear Cousin, — in fact, 
no larger than your dimple! 

Frank said something to him once 
about spending part of his leave with us, 
but he thought his family would not be 
willing to give him up, as he has only a 
month. Yesterday, we were all sitting 
on the piazza at the hospital when the 
captain asked me if he might take a book 
I had been reading. Frank said, "Oh, 
you'll find that on the table in my room, ,, 
so he went to get it. 

He was gone so long that I finally put 
down my work and went to his assistance, 
and there he stood with the book under 
his arm, gazing at your picture! The new 
one you sent Frank with that love of a 
dimple in it! When he saw me, he ex- 
claimed, "I say, Mrs. Arnold! Who's 
the girl ?" Well, what I told him seemed 
not to lessen his interest, especially when 
I added that we were expecting to have 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

you with us for several weeks when we 
were at home. 

As soon as he joined Frank, he ex- 
claimed, apropos of nothing, "Jove, I 
wish I could go North and have a week 
or two with you!" and my dear! in ten 
minutes the whole thing was settled, and 
he is coming! 

He is very nice! He is a good sailor 
(so he says) and he is not married, neither 
is he engaged, and the only fault that I 
have been able to discover in him is that 
he ranks Frank by about fifty files! 

This may not appear to you as anything 
against him, but to me, it is an almost 
insurmountable barrier! I could have 
found dozens of charming and suitable 
cousins-in-law, had I been willing to select 
from Frank's ranking officers, but it was 
quite difficult to select the right one from 
those below him! 

Well, never mind! He is a dear and 
I shall make you promise before I give 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

my consent, never to rank me out of my 
quarters! 

We shall stay over one day in New 
York, but D. V. we shall be back at 
Five Birches two weeks from to-day! 

Frank's four months' sick-leave came 
last night, and now my fingers fairly ache 
to begin to pack ! 

You will be amazed to know that for 
the past three weeks, I have been having 
a good time! Two new boarders came 
about a month ago, a typical Southern 
girl and her mother, who are both charm- 
ing. I have fallen in love with the young 
lady. She has the fascination often found 
in girls from the South, and every one from 
the cranky rheumaticky colonel down to 
Bobby is at her feet. The racing season 
has opened now in good earnest and as 
her most devoted admirer has passes to 
the grandstand, we go nearly every after- 
noon. Usually half a dozen of us form 
a party, and we put our money together, 

3*9 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

sometimes amounting to as much as a 
dollar, and bet! But tell it not in Gath! 

If I had put a ring in my nose and ap- 
peared in an abbreviated grass skirt, 
Mother could not consider me more of a 
heathen! But everybody goes to the races, 
even the saintly minister, who boards here, 
and who appeared to enjoy it as much 
as the naughtiest book-maker. 

We have had one or two dead sure 
tips and have played them too. Judging 
from the way the horses came in, they 
were dead all right! 

Before a race we generally visit the 
paddock, as we have passes, and con- 
scientiously examine the horses. Our sys- 
tem is to play the horse that seems to be 
having the most fuss made over him. 

Yesterday, for instance, we picked a 
horse called "Goliedown." I don't know 
what he looked like, for he was all covered 
up with blankets and bath towels, wrung 
out of ice-water, with an ice-pack on his 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

head and red flannel puttees on each leg. 
He had been given the dope, whatever 
that is, and was shaking all over as if 
he had palsy. Now, according to our 
system, he was a sure winner, although 
I must own we felt a trifle dubious when 
we learned his name, and do you know, 
I doubt if he has reached the finish line 
yet! He was the slowest thing and in- 
sisted on starting around the track in the 
wrong direction three separate times. This 
was probably the effect of the dope, but 
it made the starters angry and we heard 
aftenvards that the best time he ever 
made was on the freight train that brought 
him here. 

After placing our heavy bets, we adjourn 
to the vicinity of the telegraph booth to 
await results. A man stands on a high 
stool and with field glasses watches the 
race and tells the operators the exact 
position of the horses. 

Perhaps you think it isn't exciting! 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

My dear, we nearly lose our minds, as 
well as our money, when they come in 
on the home stretch. I find it easier to 
talk the lingo than to pick the winner, 
but if we become very successful, I don't 
mind putting up something for you. 

Frank has just come in to say that we 
leave next Saturday! How am I ever 
going to put in my time between now 
and then ? 

You will have a spasm when you see 
my general get-up, for I am a human rag- 
bag! We bought no new clothes in San 
Francisco because we wanted to wait for 
spring things, and here you can buy 
nothing but bath-wraps, bath-shoes, bath- 
mitts, bath-towels, and baths! and I am 
reduced to a muslin dress with low neck 
and short sleeves, and a lawn wrapper. 
I see only one way to do and that is to 
take to my bed as soon as I reach home 
and remain there until I can replenish 
my wardrobe. If they have a rummage 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

sale within the next two weeks perhaps 
you can find something for me. 

Frank is much better and says that if 
he gains as much in the next four months 
as he has in the last, he will be able to 
return to duty. I know he will be well 

in a week after Dr. P has a chance 

at him. 

We have been hoping that Captain 
Goodrich could go with us but his leave 
has been "turned down!" Isn't it a 
shame! I can't wait for you to meet him. 
It is practically all over with him now, 
and it only remains for you to say the word ! 
His regiment is due for the Philippines 
in about six months, and I will let you take 
my book on astronomy, all my white 
shoes, and the six jars of cold cream, 
which, by the way, are still unopened! 
I am sure you can't refuse all that and the 
captain thrown in! 

The races close in a week and then all 
the naughty sporty people will go their 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

several ways, some with pockets full and 
others fortunate in the possession of return 
tickets, and Hot Springs will again be 
left to the lame, the halt, and the blind! 

It is beautiful here now, the hills are 
blue with violets and the peach trees are 
in blossom. 

My dear, this will be my last letter 
unless I send you a line from New York. 
How our tongues will fly, and won't 
we have fun unpacking! Hug yourself 
for your most joyful cousin 

Beth. 



The Limited, 
April 3. 
Dearest: 

We shall be in dear old New York in an 

hour, and I must send you one last scrawl. 

We have had a dandy trip! We started 

on April 1, and all our crowd came down 

to the station to see us off, even Captain 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

Goodrich, who was nice and jolly, in 
spite of the fact that he couldn't go with 
us. Several persons came aboard to see 
us made comfortable. He was the last 
to leave the car, in fact, he waited until 
the train was moving before he finally 
tore himself away and made a rush to the 
rear door. Then, what do you think ? 
Before we were out of the station, the door 
opened and he walked in again! He was 
going all the time and did it for a joke on 
me! I rushed to the door, and back at 
the station the whole crowd were jumping 
up and down, calling "April Fool!" at 
the top of their lungs ! 

Mother's one word of advice, delivered 
on an average of three times a day, has 
been, " Be sure and take plenty of warm 
wraps." This we obediently did, and 
imagine our unholy joy, when, not fifty 
miles from Hot Springs, she exclaimed, 
"I have left my coat hanging in the closet!" 
There was nothing to be done but telegraph 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

back from the next station and she will 
probably get it in the course of a week or 
two. In the meantime she is planning to 
wear Frank's extra coat, which drags about 
a foot on all sides of her. 

We had hardly recovered from that 
excitement, when I discovered her hastily 
going through her bag and suit-case, 
turning everything upside down and evi- 
dently laboring under suppressed excite- 
ment. 

At last she exploded, "I have lost my 
money!" and when we discovered that it 
was several hundred dollars, we promptly 
shared in her excitement. We immediately 
accused the chambermaid, the hired man, 
the cook, and every one we had seen since 
starting! In vain I made a systematic 
search through everything, and tried to 
make her remember when she had it last. 
No use! It was gone! 

The only place where she could get 
a check cashed was Cincinnati, and we 

326 



Real Letters of a Real Girl 

arrived there on Sunday, but Captain 
Goodrich said that his father, who kindly 
met us at the station and showed us all 
over the city while we waited for our train, 
would cash one for her. 

This he did and after profuse thanks 
from Mother, we were returning to the 
train, when I suggested that she had better 
let me take charge of the money for her. 

Mother said, "No! I will put this in 
a safe — " and then she uttered a joyful 
whoop — it was nothing less — and ex- 
claimed, "I know now where my money 
is!" If you please, it was pinned on her 
"pussun" all the time while we had been 
wearing ourselves out, wondering where 
she had dropped it and who had stolen 
it! She then returned the money to Mr. 
Goodrich and we went on our way re- 
joicing! I think her head is a little turned 
in the joy of returning! 

We are simply flying over the ground! 
Nothing but the Limited would do for 

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Real Letters of a Real Girl 

me and every little jolt is bringing me nearer 
to my dearest cousin! 

We are all wearing the smile that won't 
wear off and Bobby is singing "Onward 
Christian Soldiers" in three keys, which 
always signifies that he is on the topmost 
pinnacle of bliss! 

Good-bye again. No more hugs on 
paper! 

From your ecstatic cousin, 

Beth. 

P. S. Your captain has stopped over 
at Cincinnati for three or four days with 
his parents, to give us time to get the 
house open, but we expect him at Five 
Birches inside of a week. 

I can hardly wait to say, "Bless you, 
my children!" 



328 




THE GARDEN 
SERIES 

By Carro Frances Warren 

WHEN completed will comprise SIX of the most 
fascinating, and at the same time uplifting and 
instructive stories for children ever written. 
The titles are : 

(1) Little Betty Marigold and Her Friends. 

(2) Little Polly Primrose and Her Friends. 

(3) Little Goldie Goldenrod and Her Friends. 

(4) Little Topsy Thistle and Her Friends. 

(5) Little Peter Pansy. 

(6) Little Danny Dandelion. 

Of these the first two have already been issued, and 
numbers 3 and 4 will be published in 1909. 

Each volume will contain a page showing all the 
flowers mentioned in the story, in all the beauty of 
their natural colors. These Nature studies will be of 
great interest and value to every child reader. 

The many colored illustrations and handsome bind- 
ing will make any or all of these volumes most attrac- 
tive gift books for children. They will be sold at a 
uniform price of 75 cents each. 

At all Booksellers, or sent postpaid by 

THE C. M. CLARK PUBLISHING CO. 

2ii Tremont Street, Boston, Massachusetts 



JUN 26 1909 



